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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684707">So find your happiness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeWitch/pseuds/LakeWitch'>LakeWitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And lots of dancing, Beaches, Brief talk about Muggle religion, Clubbing, Computers, Confessions, Crack Treated Seriously, DJ Harry Potter, Dancing, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, Draco Malfoy is Obsessed with Harry Potter, Draco plays Boyz II Men when he's pining, Draco singing along to Britney Spears, Drinking, Drunkenness, Gaslighting, Harry makes YouTube videos of himself dancing in his living room, Harry's ringtone is the intro to Aaliyah's Try Again, Ibiza, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Meddling Pansy Parkinson, Mentions Of Infidelity, No Smut, Oh and Also, POV Draco Malfoy, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Tension, Skinny Dipping, Stalking, Stargazing, Swearing, Television Watching, The crack bits include:, This was all an excuse to research Ibiza as if I was planning a vacation, Too many late 90s/early 00s RnB and Pop references, YouTube, at least, but mostly enjoying Ibiza and friendly conversation, but with good intentions, charity work, crackish?, custard, everything I write is essentially the same story, ignore me, mentions of clown sex, not drarry though, pandemic brain wrote this, someone cries, there is some drama, this is really a mixed bag, yes Harry is a DJ in Ibiza</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:35:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>40,731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeWitch/pseuds/LakeWitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to a special interest in Muggle culture, Pansy comes across something rather interesting on the internet: someone who looks very much like Harry Potter is posting videos of himself dancing on YouTube under the name "Evan James".</p><p>But Harry Potter has been missing and unheard of for years. They say he couldn't take the fame and he'd just up and left the UK behind, with rumour placing him somewhere on the Continent. </p><p>When Pansy shows Draco one of the videos, something ... well, <i>awakens</i> in him. Something he had very much tried to move on from and forget—that he has loved Harry Potter ever since they were fourteen.</p><p>Pansy convinces Draco that it's time he travels to Ibiza to find Harry and "shoot his shot", once and for all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>217</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi ❤️</p><p>Let me preface this with a few notes:</p><p>1. General warnings for swearing, drinking, sensuality, nudity, talk of sex/cocks, some light stalking (but Harry stalked Draco all through sixth year, so I guess they're even?), mentions of infidelity/gaslighting/possessiveness</p><p>2. Title comes from Mary J. Blige's "No More Drama"</p><p>3. Harry's YouTube dancing videos are heavily influenced by Brian Jordan Alvarez's YouTube dancing videos (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JniGVNplO7o/">here's an example</a>). And I should say that while Pansy thinks Harry's dancing looks stupid, I cannot conceive anyone thinking the same of BJA. Therefore let's say Harry's dancing is clumsier, but, well, in the same vein.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Oh Merlin, Draco, I nearly forgot.’ </p><p>‘Mm?’ Draco took another sip of his strawberry lemonade, squinting out at the rolling hills beyond Pansy’s backyard. They stretched out for kilometres, interrupted only by the occasional crumbling stone wall that served to separate the properties. </p><p>Pansy rose to her feet. ‘Wait here.’ An enormous grin took up half her face. ‘You’re gonna fucking love this.’ </p><p>He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’ </p><p>‘Yes!’ And at that, she rushed off, disappearing inside the house. </p><p>Draco could use a laugh today—everything was rather repetitive these days. Was his life getting a bit dull? Well … he hoped not.  </p><p>He sighed as he glanced up. It was a bit overcast and dreary that day, making even the summer's grass more of a dull grey-green. But at least the lemonade was helping them pretend it was sunny and proper warm. </p><p>Pansy reappeared a moment later, holding one of those big fold-up Muggle metal devices. </p><p>‘Ah. A laptap,’ he remarked, placing his lemonade down on the round wooden table, as he un-crossed and re-crossed his legs. </p><p>‘Lap<i>top</i>.’ </p><p>‘Laptap sounds better. It rhymes.’ </p><p>‘<i>No</i>, Draco.‘ She sighed, and set the thing down on the table beside his drink. The smile returned—a dangerous smile, Draco noted. ‘Okay, this is <i>amazing</i>. So you know how Potter had, like, a mental breakdown and moved to the fucking Continent?’ </p><p>Draco swallowed, and tried to ignore the visceral reaction that name caused. ‘I … do …' It’d been all over the Prophet. It’d been all anyone ever talked about for a long while—how Potter had snapped and left everything and everyone behind. There had been sad photos of Granger and Weasley walking in the rain on the front cover. Yes, Draco remembered it well. </p><p>She leant closer to him, grinning. ‘Well apparently he’s a fucking DJ down in Ibiza, and he’s got his own YouTube channel.’ </p><p>‘I do not know what many of those words mean. English, please.’ </p><p>Sighing, Pansy said, ‘Ugh, you are hopeless. He makes videos. Moving pictures with sound. On the internet.’ Groaning now, she added, ‘Just watch.’ Pansy pushed a few buttons, and aimed the screen at Draco. </p><p>Draco forgot to breathe, because it was the first time he was seeing Harry Potter’s face in years.  </p><p>That goofy face filled the screen: a lopsided happy smile, and sparkling too-green eyes behind round plastic frames. Potter bit at the side of his lip, and adjusted something on the camera.  </p><p>‘Can he see us?’ Draco whispered, startled and afraid to make any sudden movements. </p><p>Pansy laughed. ‘<i>No</i>.’ </p><p>Potter backed up, bobbing his head, revealing a bare, sun-kissed and toned torso. Draco sucked in a breath. </p><p>‘Oh hold on, I forgot the sound,’ said Pansy. She took the laptop back and clicked something. A blast of loud, throbbing, contemporary music played as she pointed it back in Draco’s direction. </p><p>He leant forward to get a better look. Potter was dressed only in shorts and was pumping his fists in the air fast, in time to the beat. Then he whipped his arms around in a wide circle, doing a twirl. Next, he rhythmically bounced and crouched on his feet. </p><p>Potter was not … <i>technically</i> a good dancer, but he was really into it, that was for certain. Dancing like he didn’t care what anybody thought … just, feeling the music, freely moving to it. Swinging his body around the room with abandon. </p><p>His black curls bounced, eyes squeezed shut, as Potter mouthed the words to the song.  </p><p>Draco was … mesmerised. That was probably the right word for it. His eyes travelled all over the screen, noting every detail. Potter was in a mostly-empty room, in a home—<i>his</i> home—presumably. And in the background: large windows revealed a setting sun and orange and purple-streaked sky as Potter’s bare feet dashed across dark, hardwood floors. There was a bookshelf but Draco couldn't make out any of the titles, and a fern in a planter in the corner—but apart from all that, it was rather barren. Just … just Potter launching his body around the room in time to the music. </p><p>‘Ugh,' Pansy griped. 'Why aren’t you laughing? He looks <i>so stupid</i>.’ </p><p>Draco frowned at the screen. ‘He’s dancing.’ </p><p>‘It’s <i>embarrassing</i>, Draco.’ </p><p>‘Is it?’ He didn’t think so. It was rather … well, <i>nice</i>. </p><p>‘Seriously? Salazar, Draco. I can’t believe you’re still hung up on Harry Potter after all these years.’ She groaned, throwing her head back. ‘Get over it, he’s gone. He’s on a fucking island in the Mediterranean Sea or whatever. For Circe’s sake.’ </p><p>He still couldn’t drag his eyes away from the screen. ‘I am not “hung up”.’ </p><p>‘So you won't mind if I take this away then,’ Pansy said, grabbing the laptap. </p><p>‘No!’ Draco grabbed for it too. It ... well, wasn't finished playing ... </p><p>She smirked at him and let go. ‘Fine. Whatever. Keep your delusions.’ </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. Pansy was so bloody dramatic. The video ended. It was just a black screen. ‘It’s stopped.’ </p><p>Sighing, she leant over and showed him the trackpad. ‘Here. He has loads of stupid videos. You just use this square to move the little pointer on the screen. And see those videos on the side? You select them by pressing down on the square. Got it?’ </p><p>‘I … think so.’ Muggle things always confused him. They never seemed intuitive. </p><p>‘Good.’ She eyed him with her mouth pinched to the side, then let out a long sigh. ‘Ah, why did I even think to show you this, <i>of course</i> you were going to get weird about it.’ She shook her head at him. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll grab a book then, if you’re going to be watching Potter dance like a puppet with a child holding the strings all afternoon.’ </p><p>‘Mmhmm.’ His eyes raked over the options on the side. Different freeze-frames of Potter's still body were on each rectangle. Like those Muggle photographs that freeze time. </p><p>Sighing again, Pansy stood up and went back inside. </p><p>Draco did as Pansy taught him, and selected one of the pictures on the screen. Potter’s face appeared, right up close—that goofy smile again as he adjusted the camera. Draco smiled back at him, tentatively. A different song from the last video started, and Potter backed up, dressed only in little red shorts this time. His legs were quite toned, Draco noted. And again … Potter danced—swinging his arms around the room. </p><p>Pansy returned a moment later with a paperback, one of those types featuring an overly-muscled long-haired man with a tiny large-chested woman in his arms. She cleared her throat and sunk down into her chair, opening it up to the bookmark. </p><p>‘Good book?’ he asked offhand. </p><p>‘Yes.’  </p><p>Draco glanced at her, and her mouth was pinched, pre-emptively a bit defensive of her novel.  </p><p>He smiled, and went back to Potter’s video.  </p><p>And quickly the smile dropped. Potter was shaking his arse in time to music. </p><p>He felt a heat rise to his cheeks. This was … erm. He cleared his throat. </p><p>Potter turned around and moved his hips. </p><p>Draco gasped. ‘I’m … <i>Pansy</i>, I’m not sure he’s wearing pants.’ </p><p>Pansy laughed. ‘Enjoy, Draco.’ </p><p>Swallowing, Draco kept watching, and tried hard not to ogle. He was sure Harry Potter wouldn’t appreciate him ogling. </p><p>He watched twelve more videos before Pansy kicked him out to get ready for a dinner with Blaise. The videos weren’t all dancing, some were of Potter in front of a crowd, fiddling with things on a Muggle machine and bobbing his head as bright lights flashed around him. It was strange, but the crowds of dancing people seemed to enjoy it. And Potter still danced in them, though with less range of motion—a little more controlled and restrained. Draco didn’t like those videos as much—not as much as the ones where he was just dancing at home, alone. Free … and happy.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Back at his flat, Draco eyed his old, wood-panelled wireless for a moment. He clasped his hands, and tapped his thumbs together, as he thought.<p>No, he couldn’t. It’d be stupid, he’d <i>feel</i> stupid. </p><p>And he might bother his neighbours. Surely it’d be noisy to dance. </p><p>Were there even any good dancing stations? He usually stuck to the dramatic readings or classical music.  </p><p>Well. Might as well see. Explore a bit, as it were. And if there was nothing suitable, he’d forget the idea completely. </p><p>So Draco switched it on, and a lovely Vivaldi concerto was playing. Reluctantly, he turned the dial. Celestina Warbeck. Something warbly. A man droning on about current events. Something twangy. Jazz. Piano.  </p><p>Ah. </p><p>He found a song with a beat and a nice melody.  </p><p>Draco dropped his hand from the dial. And bobbed his head a bit, testing it out.  </p><p>Yes, that’d do for dancing.  </p><p>He looked around the room, and hummed thoughtfully. Taking his wand out of his pocket, he spelled his table and chairs flush against the wall. He moved the sofa to the side too.  </p><p>He idly swung his arms back and forth, surveying the floorspace. </p><p>Well. No one would really know. The curtains were drawn, and he’d try not to stomp around. </p><p>Draco cleared his throat, and tucked his wand away.  </p><p>Closing his eyes, he could see Potter very clearly in his imagination. The lopsided smile, the shorts. Draco found himself smiling. He tried to focus in on the music, and he bobbed his head—slowly at first. </p><p>Then, he twirled, like a sodding ballerina. Right in the middle of the room. Smiling wider, he opened his eyes, and outstretched his arms, twirling again.  </p><p>He tried the chopping move he saw Potter do with his hands. Then, he shook his arse. </p><p>Draco let out a laugh. </p><p>It was fun. Dumb, childish fun. </p><p>And so he danced, without letting himself think for even a second on how it would seem to others, because no one would ever see it. He danced until he was sweating through his shirt. He collapsed back onto his sofa, laughing to himself.  </p><p>Draco ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Yeah. He could do this every day. It felt good. His chest felt warm, like a little flame had ignited. Or, like he’d blown on nearly burnt-out embers, reigniting them into something with the capacity to grow. To burn brighter. </p><p>No, he was just being silly.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>The next afternoon, he Floo-called Pansy.<p>Her eyebrow lifted. </p><p>‘Pansy, darling, my lovely best friend. Could I borrow your laptap?’ </p><p>‘Lap<i>top</i>,’ she said wearily. ‘And, no, you’d need an internet connection to watch your unrequited love’s videos.’ </p><p>He choose to ignore that last part. ‘Okay, and how do I get “internet connection”?’ </p><p>Through a sigh, she said, ‘It’s much too complicated for you. You’d need to speak to a Muggle company on a Muggle telephone to get it sorted. You’d need a Muggle bank account, and a Muggle credit card. And after all that, they come into your home, drill holes in the walls. Put in wires. It’s a whole production.’ </p><p>‘Oh.’ He deflated. That certainly sounded overly-convoluted.  </p><p>Sighing again, in defeat this time, Pansy said, ‘Come over. I’ll let you watch your videos. But I’ve got a 3:00 meeting with Esmeralda, and a 4:30 tea with my mother. You’ll be on your own.’ </p><p>Draco smiled. ‘You are, without a doubt, the very best.’ </p><p>She rolled her eyes, but he caught a hint of a smile.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Pansy placed him in the sun room with the laptap. Laptop. She helped him find Potter’s videos again, sitting him at the glass table by the floor-to-ceiling windows where she often takes her tea. It was quite a lovely room, one of Draco’s favourites—and was made even better by the sun shining brightly today. Might've been a more suitable day for a lemonade and an outside sit, but that was neither here nor there.<p>The sharp light caused all the various leafy plants around the room to appear like emerald glass, but also caused a terrible glare on the laptop. Pansy adjusted the “brightness” on the thing, tilted the screen a bit, and miraculously a clearer picture of the video menu appeared. </p><p>‘I regret showing you this,’ Pansy muttered as she clicked through, leaning over his shoulder. ‘Anyone else would’ve had a good laugh with me and been done with it.’ Another click. ‘There.’ </p><p>‘Thanks, Pans.’ </p><p>She ran her hand down the back of his hair, smoothing it. ‘Yeah, yeah.’ And then she was off. </p><p>Taking a deep breath, Draco selected a video. Blue shorts. They were quite small. Draco swallowed, and watched.  </p><p>Harry Potter was fucking beautiful. And completely goofy. </p><p>Draco found himself grinning. He bit at the tip of his thumb. How could anyone seeing these <i>not</i> be absolutely enamoured? Pansy was mistaken, there was nothing embarrassing about them. They were … wholesome. Bloody endearing, really.  </p><p>After three videos, Draco looked around him. Everything, save the computer, was still and silent. He was alone. And Pansy was out with Esmeralda …  </p><p>This was exceedingly silly of him to think about … but he wanted to dance along. Just for fun.  </p><p>So he left the laptop on the table, tilted the screen upwards a bit, and pushed all the chairs to the side.  </p><p>At first Draco tried to match Potter’s movements, but they seemed so random that it was hard to keep up. Draco laughed at himself, trying to imitate a hip gyration that Potter was doing. Merlin. </p><p>On the next video, Draco just moved how he wanted to move, and kept an eye on Potter’s dances. In a way … it was like they were dancing with each other. </p><p>The next video was one of those on-a-stage-in-front-of-a-crowd ones.  </p><p>‘Hey guys my name is Evan James, and this next one’s called “Oops, I did it again.”’ </p><p>The crowd cheered. And Draco froze, the smile falling from his mouth. </p><p>Potter’s voice. </p><p>Potter’s ... voice. </p><p>He realised he was squeezing his hands into fists, tight enough to be uncomfortable. </p><p>Draco took a breath, and stepped closer to the screen. </p><p>“Evan James”? That was the name he was going by? </p><p>He pulled a chair back in front of the laptop and sat down. He felt a little out of breath as he clicked the video to start again. </p><p>‘Hey guys my name is Evan James, and this next one’s called “Oops, I did it again.”’ </p><p>He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and chewed it. </p><p>Replay. </p><p>‘Hey guys my name is Evan James, and this next one’s called “Oops, I did it again.”’ </p><p>Okay. Maybe he was a little “hung up” on Harry Potter.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>The next day, he Floo-called Pansy again.<p>‘<i>No</i>, Draco. You can’t come over every day.’ </p><p>‘Ah ... well, I suppose …' He was disappointed, yes. But it did make sense—he couldn’t spend all day, every day, watching Harry Potter’s videos at Pansy’s house. It was … unrealistic. Possibly somewhat unhealthy. Okay … definitely unhealthy. </p><p>‘Don’t you have a job?’ </p><p>He sighed. ‘Morgan wants me to stay out of the way while they upgrade the office with the new computers.’ </p><p>She exhaled slow, offering him a relenting smile. ‘You can come over Saturday afternoon.’ </p><p>He smiled back. ‘Thank you, Pans.’</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>He was thinking about Harry Potter more than he should.<p>Was Potter happy? He certainly looked happy. </p><p>What was his life <i>like</i>? Being on an island, in the sun, with beaches all around, <i>all</i> the time. Did he have a new group of friends? Did he have a girlfriend … or maybe a wife? He’ll have to take a closer look at Potter’s left hand next time. </p><p>Saturday … well, it couldn’t come fast enough.  </p><p>When it did, he surprised himself at how happy he felt. Excited, even. Like it wasn’t just watching images move on a flat screen.  </p><p>Potter just seemed so happy and free in them. They made … they made Draco feel a bit happy and free too. He liked seeing Potter happy. Potter deserved to be happy … after all he’d been through. </p><p>Pansy greeted him with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow. She turned without a word, and he had to speed up to catch up to her. ‘You’re obsessed.’ </p><p>‘Not really.’ </p><p>She barked a laugh, and let him into the sun room again. The laptop was sitting where he’d last seen it.  </p><p>Potter wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Draco knew Morgan said to stay out of the office, but he was growing restless, and needed a distraction. Besides … he wasn't going to wreck anything.<p>So at 9am, Draco Floo-ed into the office. </p><p>The whole place was packed with technicians bringing in boxes, some pulling out plastic wrapped computers, others clicking away at screens. Draco's clerks were squished into a corner with stacks of papers, piled high towards the ceiling, and machinery all around them.  </p><p>He just stood and surveyed the scene for a moment. </p><p>'Draco!' Morgan came up behind him. </p><p>He turned, and smiled at the latest hair change—bright green and styled to defy gravity, bit like a fire. 'Hello Morgan. I like the new hair. Were you going for a Floo flame look?' </p><p>Her freckled, dark-skinned face broke out into a grin, as she clutched his arm. '<i>Yes,</i> thank you.' Her grin faded fast into a stern frown. 'Now, what are you doing here?' </p><p>'I <i>work</i> here.' </p><p>She shook her head. 'There's nothing for you to do right now.' She nodded towards the clerks. 'We're just scanning all the papers. That's priority right now. And since you obviously <i>can't</i> …' </p><p>'Hey, I'm not completely useless at computers. I know how to click on the YouTubes.' </p><p>Morgan looked simultaneously dubious and amused. 'I'm sure you're very good at <i>the YouTubes</i>. But that particular skill does not transfer to scanning documents.' She grabbed him by the arms and tried to steer him backwards into the fireplace. </p><p>'Hey, I haven't even gotten to see my office.' </p><p>She sighed hard. 'Fine. One look at your office, then you're gone. Got it?' </p><p>Merlin, you'd think she were the boss of him. 'Yeah, all right.' </p><p>They navigated their way through cardboard boxes, bits of Styrofoam, and loose plastic bags to Draco's office door, and went inside. </p><p>He had a nice glass-walled office, overlooking a busy London street packed with a number of other small businesses—a coffee shop, a Muggle suit shop, among others.  </p><p>Sat on Draco's desk was a brand-new grey computer. It wasn't like Pansy's laptop, this one was the big boxy sort. He stepped around the desk to get a better look at it. To think … these funny Muggle things held so much knowledge, so much to do and see. Somewhere in there was Harry Potter dancing in his house.  </p><p>'I get one these too, do I?' Draco pressed a few buttons.  </p><p>'Hey! Don't just mash the keyboard,' Morgan said, pushing off from the door frame, and coming round the desk to better monitor him, as if he were a misbehaving child. </p><p>'Fine, fine.' He raised his hands to show he wasn't going to hurt the plastic. </p><p>Morgan considered him for a beat. 'I'm signing you up for computer classes.' </p><p>He winced. 'Can't <i>you</i> teach me?' </p><p>She barked out a laugh. 'Fat chance, there. I imagine after an hour we'd both be ripping our hair out. No, I'm signing you up for a class—one of those classes full of grannies. You'll love it.' </p><p>'Great,' he said. Not meaning it in the least.  </p><p>'Now get lost,’ Morgan said fondly. </p><p>He did—he got lost. Lost at Pansy's front door.</p><p>Draco knocked, and Pansy opened up a moment later.</p><p>She frowned at him. ‘You can’t keep doing this.’ </p><p>Draco exhaled all the breath out of his lungs. He knew. ‘I know.’ </p><p>Yes, he was just as pathetic, as <i>weak</i>, as he'd been at fifteen, simply wishing for a shaggy-haired boy to notice him, to acknowledge him. </p><p>Pansy took his hand and squeezed it, staring at their entwined fingers. She looked up suddenly, with a startlingly warm expression. ‘How long have you felt this way about him?’ </p><p>Draco opened his mouth to protest, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. But Pansy was looking at him with such solemn affection, that he felt he could … perhaps … admit it … out loud. <i>Fuck</i>. He groaned, and swiped his free hand over his face. ‘Fourth year.’ He winced. </p><p>She sighed, smiled fondly, then squeezed his hand again. ‘I knew it.’</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>‘Draco.’ Pansy’s head in the fire seemed like all-business, and it was 9:00 in the morning. Draco hadn’t yet finished his morning tea.<p>‘Mm?’ He settled down, cross-legged onto the mat in front of his hearth. </p><p>‘I think you have to go to Ibiza.’ </p><p>‘Wh—’ </p><p>‘Listen. Harry Potter plays a set every Friday night at some place called Sankeys. I found out on his Facebook.’ </p><p>‘Face—?’ </p><p>‘Shut up for a second and consider this: what if you went down there, and just … you know, shot your shot? Like, maybe tell him you like him or something. See if he has any interest. That way you’ll know, once and for all. Like, no matter the outcome, you’ll know you tried, and then you can go on with your life? And won’t have to always wonder about what could’ve been?’ </p><p>Draco clenched his jaw tight. That seemed like a terrible idea. The worst, most embarrassing, idea. </p><p>‘All right—you don’t even have to tell him how you feel, or that you went to Ibiza for him. Plenty of people vacation there. Maybe it could be happenstance, you showing up. Like, wow, what a surprise! And hey, now that you’re here, let’s grab a drink!’ She grinned. ‘Then you just see what happens. Who knows, maybe you’ll get along.’ </p><p>Draco raised both eyebrows. </p><p>‘Besides, you could use a vacation. You’re all work-work-work.’ She waved a hand around. ‘And when it’s not work, lately it’s all Potter-Potter-Potter. It’s <i>annoying</i>.’ She pointed a finger at him. ‘You need a change of location, Draco. Fresh air. Sunlight. New perspective. You’re cooped up alone too much, and when you aren’t, you’ve only me or Morgan for company.’ </p><p>Draco frowned. He had a good life, a nice life. This was all rather un-called for, and felt a bit like a personal attack. ‘I have other friends … And … hobbies …' </p><p>Pansy quirked an eyebrow. </p><p>‘I do!’ Blaise was his friend … Greg … He might not’ve seen them in a little while, but … he was busy! He had organisations to run. </p><p>Pansy sighed. ‘Just think about it. It’s a brilliant idea, if you ask me.’ </p><p>‘It’s your idea—’ </p><p>‘<i>Exactly</i>. Merlin, Draco. When have I ever steered you wrong?’ </p><p>‘Well there was that time in Rio—' </p><p>‘We don’t talk about Rio de Janeiro,’ Pansy said quickly. Then she sighed. All she ever did was sigh around him lately, it seemed. ‘Think about it.’ </p><p>‘All right …' he said slowly. ‘I’ll think about it.’ </p><p>A devious grin enveloped her face. ‘Excellent. Bye for now.’ </p><p>She closed the call, and Draco sat staring at the fire. He couldn’t … he couldn’t <i>just go</i>. There was no chance Potter would be anything but angry to see him. He’d always hated Draco. Always. From the very moment they’d met, at age eleven.  </p><p>No. Draco couldn’t possibly go.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>‘Okay, I’ll go,’ he said to Pansy, stood at her front door. Even saying it aloud nagged at him, churned anxiety deep in his belly.<p>But he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about going. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Harry Potter.  </p><p>Work was just so slow, with the switch over to computers—he had nothing to distract himself with. He was going a bit loopy, just staying in his flat all the time. </p><p>Furthermore, maybe Pansy was right … that he’d wonder the rest of his life as to what could’ve been, knowing he hadn’t even once <i>tried</i>, never once attempting to reveal his true feelings.  </p><p>And maybe he wouldn’t even see Potter down there. Maybe Potter would cancel his music thing, maybe he’d have a cold.  </p><p>Draco would just leave it up to the fates. And then … he’d know. That once, just once, he’d tried. </p><p>And he could return home—he could come back at any time, actually. He was free to back out if he lost his nerve, without Potter ever even knowing. </p><p>Pansy grinned, and leant against the doorframe. ‘Wonderful.’ Then she shot up straight and clapped her hands together. ‘We need to go shopping for your vacation outfits.’ </p><p>Draco grimaced. And part of him was wondering what on earth was he getting himself into. Another, a very tiny part, felt a spark of excitement. A small thrill.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>So that was how Draco found himself landing in an Ibizan alleyway between two buildings, used-up rubber duck Portkey in hand, on a Friday afternoon.<p>Fuck, it was hot. </p><p>Good thing he already had on the white, baggy, sleeveless cotton shirt, and pink cotton shorts Pansy made him buy. It showed off far-too much skin—far-too-<i>pale</i>-skin—he was going to glow like the moon amongst all the tan people. And this was all not to mention the faded and marred Dark Mark on his arm. But Pansy’d said the wizarding population in Ibiza is slim-to-none, so he was unlikely to frighten anyone.  </p><p>Taking a deep breath, Draco set off to follow the directions to his hotel.  </p><p>There seemed to be a lot of raucous young people in bathing suits and jean shorts on the streets. He squinted at them, and remembered his sunglasses. They were black, plastic things. More expensive then they ought to be, considering the material. He unhooked them from the lip of his shirt and put them on.  </p><p>Better. </p><p>He found the hotel, checked in without incident, and went up to his hotel room to put away his things.  </p><p>It was a nice room; everything in light coffee tones. A large window looked out onto the crowded beach, and the beautiful, blue Balearic Sea sparkling in the light.  </p><p>Nice. </p><p>He sat down hard onto the bed. He’d actually come to Ibiza. It felt strange, like it might not actually be real. </p><p>And his chest swelled at the knowledge that Harry Potter was there. Near.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Harry Potter's (or should he think of him as Evan James now?) “DJ” show was set to begin at 8pm. Draco arrived early, and joined a queue outside—lined up all along the side walk.<p>It felt a bit weird to be there alone, while other people gathered in groups near him, flicking away on their Mobile phones or speaking in languages he didn’t understand. </p><p>He buzzed with something that was either anxiety or excitement. Probably both. </p><p>And then, it was time. </p><p>Draco was shuffled in through along with the crowd, making him feel rather like a sheep. People were brushing up against him on all sides. It ... wasn’t exactly ideal. But his heartrate quickened in a sort-of nervous anticipation.  </p><p>They were all ushered into a dark, rectangular room. The far end had a little raised platform—a stage—with the whole set-up that made the music happen.  </p><p>Draco tried to manoeuvre his way closer to the stage, but just the sheer number of people … He only managed to get a couple dozen heads back from the stage before everything was just too tightly-packed for him.  </p><p>Okay. Well … this’d have to do, he thought.  </p><p>His heart was proper pounding by then. Maybe it was a mistake to come. </p><p>A laughing girl with a blonde ponytail bumped hard into his side. ‘Ah, je m’excuse,’ she said tossing him a passing side-glance. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added in thick French accent. </p><p>'N’en parlez plus.’ </p><p>She gave him a more thorough once-over, and grinned. She grabbed his wrist, and pulled him forward. And the crowd was just … parting for her.  </p><p>Blinking rapidly, Draco let himself be ushered by this perfect stranger. She parked him over by the wall to the left of the stage with a group of girls. Her friends, he figured.  </p><p>They all eyed him with smiles, some flirtier than others. He smiled back tentatively. Bit weird, but … but not wholly unwelcome. Was nice to have company—made him feel a bit more at ease with this ridiculous scenario he’d wilfully gotten himself into.  </p><p>Before Draco could introduce himself, the wall behind the stage lit up with neon blue lightbulbs. </p><p>A keyboard melody and the sounds of heavy rain filled the room. Draco turned to face the stage.  </p><p>Harry Potter. </p><p>Draco swallowed. </p><p>He could only see him in profile—lit by blue light, with big headphones on his ears. He was looking down at his moving hands, pressing buttons, turning dials and things, as his head shook slowly in time to the beat.  </p><p>Harry Potter. </p><p>‘You don’t have to say. What you did.’ The girl with the ponytail sang along in her heavy accent—or shouted, rather. (You’d have to, to be heard over the loud music.) She jabbed a mock-accusatory finger at Draco’s chest. ‘I already know. I found out from … <i>him</i>!’ </p><p>Draco laughed. She smiled, and took his hands, doing a little swinging dance. </p><p>Okay. He won’t be weird and stare stiffly at Potter the whole time. He could dance. </p><p>He let her lead, and he concentrated on the music. Feeling the music. Letting it flow through him.  </p><p>The girls formed a circle with him, and sang/shouted the lyrics at each other. ‘Cry me a river!’  </p><p>Draco laughed.  </p><p>‘Don’t it make you sad about it!’ they shouted along. </p><p>He glanced over all the heads between himself and Potter again—and Potter was biting his lip, shaking his head slow, side-to-side. Mouthing the words now. <i>Bridges were burned, now it’s your turn … to cry.</i> </p><p>Potter ran an index finger slowly down from under his eye to jaw. </p><p>Draco’s smile dropped, and he swallowed, frozen. Again. </p><p>The French girl shook Draco’s arm to remind him to dance again. </p><p>He turned to her, smiled, and … and he danced. Yeah. </p><p>‘Cry me a river!’ she shouted. </p><p>‘Cry me a river!’ he shouted back—he was getting the hang of the song. The French girl grinned. </p><p>The song ended and transitioned into something with twangy instrumentals and females singing in unison. <i>A scrub is a guy that thinks he’s fly, he’s also known as a busta</i>. </p><p>The French girls cheered. They liked this one, Draco figured. </p><p>‘No. I don’t want no scrub, a scrub is a guy that can’t get no love from me,’ they shouted. </p><p>Draco laughed again. The women were so into it; their enthusiasm was infectious.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Well. That was fun.<p>Draco left with the crowd, aside the French girls.  </p><p>When they burst out the doors, the fresh, cool night air felt fantastic.  </p><p>Draco’s French friend looked back at him over her shoulder. ‘Voulez-vous sortir?’ </p><p>He shook his head “no”, and tried to smile. </p><p>She frowned at him, and looked like she had more to say, but a friend pulled her away. </p><p>Maybe he should’ve tried to thank her and her friends. It’d been a lot of fun dancing along with them. </p><p>He stepped around the building to lean against the wall—just to the right of the entrance. He took a breath there, in order to think of his next move. He should … go back to the hotel, he supposed. Then Portkey back to London in the morning. </p><p>Draco rubbed a hand over his face, vaguely aware of all the bodies moving past him.  </p><p>It … hadn’t really worked. He hadn’t gotten to speak to Harry Potter. Of course he hadn’t. Had he really thought that Potter might notice him, despite all the people, in the dark club? And, what, shout his name? Invite him up to the stage? Ridiculous.  </p><p>And what was more, Harry Potter had a whole life here, a life that was farther away from Draco than mere distance. And Draco was nothing more than a momentary spectator, with no right to barge in. This much was quite clear.</p><p>Yes. He’ll go back to the hotel. </p><p>This trip was ill-conceived. </p><p>Whatever. It was fine. It was as Pansy said: at least he tried, right? He can go home to London, now, knowing he tried. And knowing he’d been in the wrong. He’d only been daydreaming, really. And holding on to a fantasy that should’ve died in the war.  </p><p>Draco waited for the crowd to disperse a bit so that he could get his bearings.  </p><p>He took a deep breath.</p><p>This wasn’t all a waste, he thought. He was coming to terms with reality, and that was always for the best. </p><p>The crowd thinned, and he remembered it was west on this street until the grocers. Then north for two blocks. Then west some more, and he’ll be back at the hotel.  </p><p>He raised his eyes to the night sky. And he felt thankful. He’d seen Harry Potter again, in person, when he thought he never would. And Potter's good. Thriving, even. </p><p>It was enough. It was enough to have seen it with his own eyes. This was a goodbye, in its own way, goodbye to all the complicated feelings he’d discovered at fourteen. Feelings he’d struggled with, denied, and even gone so far as to harm Potter to cover them. His behaviour had been shameful. And Potter deserved so much better than that.  </p><p>And now … now Draco knew Potter had it—had better. </p><p>Yes, it was enough.  </p><p>He smiled to himself, and kicked off from the wall.  </p><p>‘<i>Draco Malfoy?</i>’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Harry's setlist:</p><p>Justin Timberlake - Cry Me A River<br/>TLC - No Scrubs<br/>Destiny's Child - Survivor<br/>Kandi - Don't Think I'm Not<br/>Christina Aguilera - Fighter<br/>Ciara - Like A Boy<br/>Toni Braxton - He Wasn't Man Enough<br/>Whitney Houston - It's Not Right But It's Okay<br/>Angie Stone - Wish I Didn't Miss You<br/>Joe - Stutter<br/>Jojo - Leave (Get Out)<br/>Craig David - Walking Away<br/>Blu Cantrell - Hit 'Em Up Style (Oops!)</p><p>Thanks for reading so far ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco froze. </p><p>Harry Potter strode up to him, having appeared out of nowhere. He had … severe eyes.  </p><p>Right. So, Harry Potter, in the flesh then. </p><p>Merlin help him. </p><p>In that instant, Draco’s heart was in his throat. He hoped he didn’t look as alarmed as he felt. ‘Hello.’ </p><p>‘What are you doing here?’ Potter seemed shocked himself—disbelieving, really—along with suspicious and wary. (Naturally.) He frowned and gave Draco a once over.  </p><p>‘I … caught your set. It was—’ </p><p>‘You were in there?’ Potter asked, eyebrows raised, nodding at the building behind Draco. </p><p>‘Well, yeah. I’m here … in Ibiza,’ he said lamely, and worried his bottom lip. ‘And I … came to listen to some music …' Potter was not going to believe him. Draco wouldn’t believe himself. </p><p>His old defences, back from his school days, begged to be let to the surface. They wanted him to scowl and bite back to save face. But … Draco wasn’t going to let them. He was … more mature than that (or so he hoped). </p><p>Potter stared. And, Salazar, he looked even better up close. He had that effortless look. Like … the curls in his glossy black hair, his naturally tan brown skin made even more bronze and perfect by consistent sun exposure, and his casual beach-ware clothes that would look normal on anyone except him. He was … larger than life.  </p><p>Draco used to hate it, used to resent Potter’s easy charm. His casual grand-ness. But now … </p><p>‘Why here?’ Potter searched his eyes, as a set of young, drunk people ran past behind him, hooting. </p><p>But Potter didn’t seem to notice them. </p><p>‘Why not here?’ Draco shrugged, going for nonchalant and hoping Potter would just accept it. </p><p>Potter considered him. ‘Who else knows?’ </p><p>‘What?’ </p><p>He took a step closer. ‘Who else knows I’m here? Does the Prophet know?’ His eyes showed a dangerous intensity. </p><p>Right. Draco deserved the suspicion, he just … Merlin, wished he didn’t deserve it? ‘No. Of course not.’ </p><p>A slight frown. </p><p>Draco exhaled. Fine. Time for a little honesty, then. ‘All right, Pansy figured it out. She has a laptap—lap<i>top</i>—and internet connection. She knows all about the YouTube and the Face thing.’ </p><p>Narrowed eyes. </p><p>Draco blinked rapidly. His heart was racing. He wasn’t doing a good job of this. ‘It’s … she won’t tell anyone. She casually mentioned that you had a show tonight. And I’m here on vacation. I thought I’d … well, curiosity—or, erm ...’  </p><p>‘Who did you come here with?’ </p><p>Ah. Shit. No one comes to Ibiza alone, do they? ‘A few friends.’ </p><p>‘Where are they?’ </p><p>‘The beach.’ Smooth, Draco. </p><p>Potter just looked at him. </p><p>Draco opened his mouth to say something. And closed it.  </p><p><i>This may be your only chance,</i> said a voice in his head that sounded irritatingly like Pansy. </p><p>Salazar. At least it was relatively dark, lit only by street lamps and a couple neon signs, and Potter might not be able to tell if he does something terrible like <i>blush</i>.  </p><p>‘All right. That was a lie,’ he said. And sighed. ‘I came alone.’ </p><p>A raised eyebrow. Well ... at least Potter hadn’t stormed off yet. </p><p>‘I wanted to …' He winced. ‘Well, I like your YouTube videos.’ </p><p>Potter’s hard, defensive expression seemed to melt away into something … perplexed? </p><p>‘I like your music mixes too,’ he said. ‘And … I wanted to see for myself if you were all right. That’s all, I promise.’ He raised his hands to signal he came in peace. It was all true. He just left out the inconvenient, long-standing, unrequited crush part, which was likely for the best. </p><p>Potter’s perplexed expression became something different. Softer, maybe. But still unsure. ‘Well …' he started. Potter glanced around himself for the first time since he’d spotted Draco. He watched a small group of partygoers laughing several metres away. He swallowed. ‘I am all right.’ </p><p>‘Ah. That’s … good.’ Lame. He winced again, but Potter wasn’t looking.  </p><p>Someone shouted down the street. Potter turned back to Draco. ‘How are you?’ </p><p>‘Oh.’ That question took him by surprise. ‘Yeah, fine.’ </p><p>More staring. Potter seemed to size him up. ‘You came here for me?’ </p><p>Shit. He was definitely blushing. ‘I …'  </p><p>Potter nodded, and looked off down the road again. ‘My mate’s playing a set in half an hour at Ushuaïa.’ </p><p>‘Oh.’ Right. This was goodbye, then.  </p><p>Well. It was nice to talk. At least he could say they’d talked, now. Potter was doing well, he’d said so. So … so Draco would go back to London contented. </p><p>‘Want to check it out?’ </p><p>He stared at Potter blankly. </p><p>Those words eventually absorbed, but Draco wasn’t prepared for them. ‘Yeah, all right,’ he said, but internally he was … Well … perhaps best described by a bit of “?”, and some of “!”. </p><p>‘Yeah?’ Potter seemed surprised. ‘Well … we can walk there. It isn’t far.’ </p><p>‘Okay.’ </p><p>Potter started off down the street, and Draco hurried to catch up, furrowing his brow.  </p><p>With hands shoved in his shorts’ pockets, Potter asked, ‘What have you been up to?’ And he’d asked it rather casually, Draco thought. As if they hadn’t seen each other for a month, at most.  </p><p>‘Oh. Well, work-wise I founded a few charities.’ Draco snuck a glance at Potter to gage his reaction—but Potter’s expression revealed nothing, just staring straight ahead.  </p><p>Draco didn’t normally like to talk about his work with people he knew at Hogwarts. He was doing what he considered the bare minimum of the right thing—after a childhood of doing everything very wrong. But, generally, it still didn’t feel like enough, and he was sure any Hogwarts students would think so, too.  </p><p>‘I don’t have to do much, lately,’ Draco admitted. ‘We’re going paperless. The foundations are doing well, and I have teams in place for marketing, for fundraisers, for all the stuff on the ground. I just try to keep it all moving in the right direction.’ </p><p>‘What do the charities do?’ </p><p>Draco took a breath and eyed a closed-down shop display of colourful hats as they passed by. ‘Well, there’s the Colin Creevey Memorial Fund. It helps war survivors and the like with access to Mind Healers, magic prosthetics, or financial assistance when someone cannot work.’  </p><p>‘I … didn’t know you knew Colin.’ </p><p>‘I didn’t, not really. But I was in touch with his family. They wanted to do something to … well, keep his memory alive.’ </p><p>Potter exhaled, slow and heavy. </p><p>Draco ran a hand through his hair. ‘And then I created The Severus Snape Children’s Foundation.’  </p><p>That earned a snort out of Potter, and Draco laughed a little too; it was still a bit ridiculous, after all this time.  </p><p>‘I know, Snape wasn’t exactly the paragon of child-care. Maybe that’s why it still amuses me. But ... I still wanted to honour him somehow.’ Draco paused to watch someone race past on a wheeled wooden plank. Odd. He cleared his throat. ‘Snape was a mentor to me, as a child, after all. The best one I ever had, I suppose. Anyhow, the Foundation helps impoverished children. Free meals and after-school programs. That sort of thing.’ He chanced a glance at Potter, and found him staring back. Draco blinked rapidly. ‘Er, and there’s one for Squibs. The goal is to reduce stigma. We do presentations, and provide therapy. The depression rates are staggering, sadly.’ Draco took another deep breath, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. </p><p>‘That’s … really something.’ </p><p>Draco smiled a little. </p><p>Potter made a soft humming sound.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>They arrived at whatever that place was called—”Ush” something or other.<p>This place was outdoors, so they had a refreshing breeze to go along with the music, and Draco could glance up anytime to admire the moon and a spattering of stars. It was lovely. They probably didn’t have anything like this back in London. </p><p>A familiar beat started. Draco glanced at Potter because it was Potter’s song—from one of his DJ set videos. </p><p>The female voice sang several “<i>yeah</i>”s. </p><p>And Potter seemed to stiffen, his mouth pinched, his chest rose and fell like he’d had to take a deep breath.  </p><p>Well, Draco liked this one—liked this one a lot. It was a fun song. He remembered the words, even. He’d certainly watched the video enough times, since it was one of the few with Potter’s voice.  </p><p>So Draco mouthed along, as he rocked his upper body from side-to-side in time with the beat. ‘I think I did it again, I made you believe, we’re more than just friends.’ He remembered those French girls, and smiled. Ah … they sure knew how to have fun. </p><p>Potter wasn’t dancing, and his eyes had taken on a glassy look—staring straight ahead. Draco turned away to watch the DJ booth. Potter’s friend seemed to enjoy the song—he was bobbing his head and laughing. And, well … Draco was determined to enjoy it, too. </p><p>So, out loud, he sang softly, ‘’Cause to lose all my senses, that is just so typically me. Oh baby, baby—’ And louder, ‘Oops I did it again, I played with your heart, got lost in the game. Ooh baby, baby.’ </p><p>He felt Potter staring at him, so Draco closed his eyes. </p><p>‘Oops, you think I’m in love. That I’m sent from a-bo-o-o-ve. I’m not that innocent.’ </p><p>Potter tugged on his wrist. </p><p>Draco kept singing quietly, and dancing—really letting himself get lost in it. ‘You see my problem is this, I’m dreaming away. Wishing that heroes, they truly exist.’ Oh. He opened his eyes. Well ... they did exist, didn’t they? He was with one now. </p><p>He and Potter locked eyes, and Potter seemed positively amused, albeit surprised. His eyes were wide and sparkly and pinned to Draco’s face.  </p><p>Potter leaned in closer to his ear, asking loud enough to be heard over the music, ‘You know this song?’ </p><p>He nodded, suppressing a shiver from the warm breath ghosting over his ear. ‘Why aren’t you dancing?’ he nearly-yelled back. </p><p>Potter’s mouth twisted into a slight frown. ‘I’m a bit angry with Britney at the moment.’ His fingers released Draco’s wrist. </p><p>The singer? Draco blinked. ‘I didn’t realise you knew each other.’ </p><p>Potter laughed. ‘We don’t.’ </p><p>Well, Draco didn’t know what Potter was on about, then.  </p><p>The song winded down to that weird talking part that made no sense to Draco. Something about an ocean and a gift. </p><p>Potter smiled, he almost seemed fond. ‘It doesn’t matter. Don’t let me stop you.’  </p><p>Okay … he wouldn’t ... Draco shut his eyes, and went back to dancing. ‘Oops you, think that I’m sent from a-bo-o-o-ve. I’m not that innocent.’ </p><p>Amazing song. Brilliant song. </p><p>‘Oops you think I’m in love, that I’m sent from a-bo-o-o-ve …' </p><p>The song faded away, and transitioned into something new.  </p><p>Draco opened his eyes and waited to get a grasp on the new one.  </p><p>He didn’t know this one. But … Potter did. And whatever weird mood Potter’d just been in clearly melted away. Because Potter was <i>into</i> it. Draco couldn’t help but smile. </p><p>‘Don’t need no hateration, holleration, in this dancerie,’ Potter sang/shouted along, just like the French girls, looking back at Draco with amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘Let’s get it percolating, while you're waiting, so just dance for me.’ He tilted his head forward at each line for emphasis.  </p><p>A laugh burst out of Draco. Potter was just so … so ... </p><p>Potter moved his hips, bit at his lower lip, and lowered his eyelids. ‘Mary J. is in the spot tonight, and I’mma make you feel all right.’ </p><p>Merlin. Draco felt inordinately warm, all of a sudden. </p><p>He tried to dance along properly, but he was distracted. So distracted. Potter was distracting. </p><p>‘Leave your situations at the door, so when you step inside, jump on the floor.’ </p><p>Fucking adorable.  </p><p>Potter grabbed Draco’s hands, and held them out to the sides. ‘So grab somebody, and get your ass on the dancefloor.’ He bit at a grin, lowering his arse towards the ground in time to the music.  </p><p>Draco tried to mirror him. Merlin. </p><p>Potter swung him around under his arm, as if this were a bloody ballroom and they were dancing a waltz. Draco shook his head and laughed. Ridiculous. And bloody adorable.  </p><p>‘We don’t need no haters,’ Potter sang, throwing his face up to the sky, and scrunching his eyes closed. ‘We’re just trying to love one another.’ </p><p>Oh lord.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>It was over, and the crowd began filtering out of the venue. The music was gone, replaced with a surreal hush of voices, and shuffling bodies.<p>Draco felt … he didn’t know how he felt. But it’d been wonderful. Potter had danced with him all throughout—taking his hands, twirling him in circles. </p><p>He could certainly leave Ibiza happy, now. He’d had one absolutely perfect night, dancing under the stars. </p><p>Potter touched Draco’s forearm, so Draco turned to him. Potter’s expression was bright, his face a bit sweaty, as he combed the fingers of his other hand through his curls. ‘I like a swim after a night of dancing.’ </p><p>Draco nodded slowly. That did sound nice. </p><p>‘Want to?’ </p><p>‘Oh,’ he said, blinking rapidly. <i>Together</i>? ‘Well, I didn’t bring a bathing suit.’ </p><p>Potter laughed. ‘You don’t need one.’ </p><p>‘Right.’ That was … erm …  </p><p>‘Come on, we can Disapparate from behind the speakers over there.’ </p><p>Draco followed behind him, and when they were completely hidden and tucked away from anyone’s view, Potter turned and took both of Draco’s hands into his. Warm. It sent a jolt through him.  </p><p>Potter smiled at Draco, like the two of them were sharing a secret, and they disappeared with a pop.  </p><p>They landed on a silent stretch of beach, lit well-enough by a gibbous moon. A gentle breeze passed over them, and Potter dropped Draco’s hands to spin around and look out at the water.  </p><p>Draco immediately felt the startling difference between the two places: it was cooler now; he could smell the salt sea air. Gone was the steady hum of people. </p><p>He looked around. The beach was a private, little horseshoe of small pebbles surrounded by steep, rocky cliffs on all sides. The water was relatively still, slowly lapping at the shore in gentle waves.  </p><p>‘No one comes here,’ Potter said. ‘Probably since it’d be so hard to get to if you can’t Apparate.’ </p><p>Draco nodded, still looking around. It was so beautiful here, in the moonlight. </p><p>‘You can’t tell now, but the water is turquoise.’ </p><p>Draco smiled, and looked out at the dark water. It stretched out to the horizon. </p><p>Potter kicked off his shoes, and pulled his t-shirt over his head. </p><p>Okay. Guess they’ll be swimming in their shorts, then. He could always spell them dry, he supposed. Might feel a bit heavy in the water, but no matter. Draco toed out of his loafers. </p><p>Potter pulled his shorts clean off, stepping out of them. Draco looked away quickly, but not before accidentally catching a bit of Potter’s bare bum. </p><p>‘Er—’ </p><p>Potter faced him and smiled cheekily, walking backwards. Draco very much did not look down, using all the self-restraint he possessed. Sure, it was dark, but he was quite certain he’d be able to make out everything in the moonlight. </p><p>Potter tilted his head in a mischievous, gently-goading sort-of way. ‘It feels brilliant.’ </p><p>‘Right,’ Draco said in a breath. He shook his head and laughed, despite himself. This was mental.  </p><p>Right.  </p><p>All right, then. Draco pulled off his shirt, and tugged down his shorts and pants.  </p><p>Why not.  </p><p>Fuck, why not …  </p><p>Potter was now running and making huge splashes in the water. </p><p>Draco stepped forward slowly, feeling the cool water lapping at his ankles. He looked up and watched Potter’s silhouette dive into deeper waters. Draco shook his head again, and smiled.  </p><p>When he got waist-deep, Draco dove under, wetting his face and hair. It did feel fucking brilliant on his tired muscles, on his skin—all of his skin. Refreshing, really; washing away all the dried sweat he’d likely accumulated from dancing so much.  </p><p>The water washed over him, through him, all of him. And admittedly, being naked felt free. Felt natural—like he was a part of nature, same as a bird (or rather a fish, he supposed).  </p><p>He paddled closer to Potter, and found him floating on his back, looking up at the stars.  </p><p>Draco mirrored him, leaning back and sucking in enough air into his lungs to keep himself afloat, spreading his arms out. His ears dipped underneath the water, plunging everything into total silence. No wind, no distant bird calls. Just complete silence. And Draco looked straight up.  </p><p>The sight made his heart skip—overheard the Milky Way was visible to the naked eye.  </p><p>It was … He couldn’t look away. </p><p>Tears formed in his eyes … it was just … so lovely. </p><p>This was all so lovely. </p><p>The universe was bloody breath-taking sometimes, wasn’t it? </p><p>The water lapped at him gently, and he let himself float wherever it wanted to take him—likely back towards the shore. </p><p>He felt so connected … so in love with the Earth at that very moment … So profoundly blessed to be there, in the moment, with the man that he … well, had loved for a very long time.  </p><p>The water pushed Potter into him. Draco’s fingertips collided with Potter’s side. Potter took hold of Draco’s wrist and tugged at him—like he wanted his attention.  </p><p>So Draco allowed his legs to sink, to bring his ears above water. His feet lay flat on the pebbly sea floor, and only his shoulders were above water.  </p><p>Potter let go of his hand, and looked at him with those big eyes—eyes that Draco knew were so green, but he couldn’t quite make out their colour now. ‘Where’s your constellation?’ </p><p>Draco blinked at him a bit, waiting for the question to make sense. Oh … ‘Draco?’ </p><p>Potter smiled. </p><p>‘Ah—’ Draco threw his head back, and spun around in place, searching for it. ‘There.’ He pointed. </p><p>Potter’s gaze followed his finger.  </p><p>‘Those four stars form the dragon’s head. And then it arches up there, and then down,’ Draco said softly.  </p><p>Potter hummed his acknowledgment.  </p><p>‘I had no idea … the stars were so … And the Milky Way,’ Draco said, moving in a little circle to look up at it again. </p><p>‘Ibiza’s skies are usually pretty clear. Hardly any light pollution either.’ </p><p>Draco nodded, still in awe.  </p><p>‘Do you think there’s life on other planets?’ </p><p>Draco laughed; the question had caught him by surprise. His eyes searched the stars. ‘I find it hard to believe there wouldn’t be. Statistically, anyway … with the vast size of the universe.’ </p><p>‘Mm,’ Potter hummed. ‘I wonder what they could be like.’ </p><p>Draco smiled. No way to know, he supposed. The water lapped pleasantly up his neck.  </p><p>‘Do you think we’d be able to do magic in space? On other planets?’ </p><p>‘Ah. Well that depends entirely on where magic comes from.’  </p><p>‘And where does it come from?’ </p><p>'Have you never wondered why before?’ He and his friends had certainly had very long, heated debates in the Slytherin dorms. Though Potter had been busy with more important things, like saving the world, he supposed. </p><p>‘Yeah, but only once I got here, and then I had no one to ask.’ </p><p>Draco smiled. ‘Well, to put it simply, no one knows. There are theories—theories that magic may be biological. Like something in our brains, in our blood, in our genetic make-up. But autopsies, blood tests, and DNA analyses have failed to find anything that separates us from Muggles yet.’ </p><p>Potter sank down so that his lips were underwater, but his eyes were glued to Draco’s face as he listened.  </p><p>‘Plus if it were genetic, we wouldn’t have Muggleborns, right? Or Squibs born to two Purebloods. But it does happen.’ Draco puffed out his cheeks, as he thought. ‘Or, perhaps, could it be that we can tap into something that Muggles can’t? Some force, or some source? And if such a thing exists—is it external or internal? Tangible or intangible? Deep within the earth, or on it? Or is it on a different plane of reality altogether? But why can we tap into it, and Muggles can’t?’ </p><p>Draco leant his head back, to re-wet his hair. Thinking. The Milky Way sparkled up there. He blinked at it, then righted himself to add, ‘If the soul can be separated from the body and live on with magic intact, does this mean that magic is part of the soul? And what is a soul, really?’ </p><p>Potter eased up slowly to stand again, and smiled at him. An enigmatic kind of smile. </p><p>Draco shrugged half-heartedly, stirring up the water a little. ‘Perhaps we reincarnate, and the souls with magic are the oldest—because we’ve learnt it along the way. Over several lifetimes. But then you’d think Wizards would be more peaceful, wouldn’t you? Wiser, somehow. But we aren’t. Not really.’ </p><p>‘If you don’t know the answers, I certainly don’t,’ Harry said, smiling. </p><p>Draco could only shrug. He <i>wished</i> he knew. </p><p>‘You love this stuff, don’t you?’  </p><p>‘What stuff?’ </p><p>‘Thinking deeply. Philosophy. Wondering at existence.’ </p><p>Draco stared at him, unable to get a read on whether he was teasing him or not. ‘I do.’ </p><p>‘Mm,’ Potter uttered, looking up at the stars, ‘I think we can still do magic in space.’ </p><p>Draco laughed. ‘Yeah? What do you base your hypothesis on?’ </p><p>A smile. ‘A feeling.’ </p><p>‘You <i>can’t</i> use feelings as proof.’ </p><p>‘Why not?’ </p><p>Draco waved an arm around. ‘You just can’t. Imagine reading a scientific article, and the author says they just “had a feeling” they were right?’ </p><p>Potter’s smile just grew. ‘Yes. Imagine.’ </p><p>Draco laughed again. Ridiculous. He loved it. </p><p>Potter leant back, making to float on his back again.  </p><p>So, Draco followed suit. He couldn’t help but smile a little.  </p><p>After a while, Draco tugged on Potter’s arm. He wanted to talk more. They both righted themselves. Draco opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. What had he wanted to say? ‘Ah, do you come here a lot?’ <i>Smooth</i>. He wanted to roll his eyes at himself. </p><p>A pause, making Draco wonder for a moment if Potter had heard him. ‘I used to. I hadn’t for a few months, but …’ His eyebrows furrowed. ‘But I think I’ll start coming more.’ </p><p>He smiled, nodding. ‘It’s so beautiful here.’ </p><p>‘Yeah,’ Potter said softly. ‘Well … I think I’m good for now, I’m gonna swim in. But stay out here as long as you want.’ </p><p>‘Okay.’ </p><p>Draco bit his lip, and watched Potter swim towards the shore—his torso getting smaller and smaller. </p><p>He tilted onto his back again, and floated for a little while longer, just watching the stars.  </p><p>When he swam back to shore, he found Potter lying on the small pebbles, wearing pants. </p><p>Draco fished around his pile of clothes, and found his pants, pulling them on. And then he joined Potter, lying back beside him.  </p><p>Those stars. Draco inhaled deep. The fresh, salty sea air …  </p><p>He didn’t blame Potter for wanting to move here. <i>Draco</i> wouldn’t mind moving here.  </p><p>It was so still, save the gentle ebb and flow of the waves washing up on the shore. And he heard Potter’s soft breaths beside him.  </p><p>‘Still feels a bit surreal that you’re here,’ Potter mused. </p><p>Right. But … But Draco was there because he’d stalked Potter online, and travelled 1400 kilometres to show up at his place of business …  </p><p>And Potter was being so bloody <i>nice</i>. Inviting him to things, showing him around.  </p><p>All right—it didn’t sit well.  </p><p>Draco sat up, and crossed his legs. He worried his bottom lip, and looked down at Potter lying beside him—arms folded back behind his head, a wet curl plastered to his forehead, and a contented smile, closed eyes. ‘I need to come clean.’ He exhaled slow. ‘I feel like a complete creep, I don’t know what I was thinking—’ </p><p>Potter opened an eye. ‘Came all this way to assassinate me, have you?’ </p><p>‘No! <i>Merlin</i> …’  </p><p>Potter laughed under his breath. </p><p>‘You shouldn’t joke about …’ He swallowed, and winced. ‘Considering my past—’ </p><p>A raised eyebrow. ‘Yeah? Are you referring to your sordid past of being the worst Death Eater to ever ...’ He waved a hand in the air. ‘... “death eat”?’ </p><p>Draco let out a breathy laugh, despite himself. </p><p>‘That was a compliment.’ </p><p>He shook his head, and looked out at the water. ‘And I take it as one. But I still did some terrible—’ </p><p>‘Ah, let’s not dwell on it right now. We’re at a beach in Ibiza.’ </p><p>‘... Right.’ He bit back all the apologies that were on the tip of his tongue.  </p><p>‘So. What’s the big secret, then?’ Potter didn’t sound overly-concerned. </p><p>He sucked at his bottom lip. Yeah. It was best to just … yeah. ‘I didn’t like the way you looked at Cedric Diggory in Fourth year.’ </p><p>‘What?’ Potter asked through a bewildered laugh. He stared up at Draco in apparent bafflement. </p><p>‘It didn’t sit right with me.’ </p><p>‘What are you on about?’ </p><p>He swallowed. ‘You seemed … I don’t know, awed by him. And I didn’t care for it. But I suppose I told myself it was irritating because you’d schemed to be in the Tournament and Cedric was being nicer to you than you deserved.’ </p><p>‘I didn’t scheme.’ </p><p>‘Right. Well, we all know that <i>now</i>.’ </p><p>Potter sighed half-heartedly. ‘Go on, then.’ </p><p>‘And then you’d asked Cho Chang to the Ball.’ </p><p>‘Yes.’  </p><p>‘Then you asked Parvati Patil and she agreed.’ </p><p>‘I did.’ </p><p>‘I didn’t like that either. Nor the dancing.’ </p><p>‘I … see ...' Potter’s brow furrowed.  </p><p>He licked his lips. ‘I was confused, and angry, and … and very deep in the closet.’ </p><p>Potter inhaled slowly. </p><p>‘And everything I was going through, all those conflicting emotions—some of which I tried desperately to bury—combined into something very ugly … and that was Fifth year for me. Ugly anger. Resentment. Jealousy.’ He gathered pebbles into his palm and shifted them around. ‘And the summer after Fifth year, I found myself on a crash course towards … well. There seemed to be no getting out of it. I'm sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about—’ </p><p>‘Go on.’ </p><p>He puffed out his cheeks, and stared out at the dark water. ‘I wanted to keep you out of it. I wanted you to leave Hogwarts behind, and not have to see … I was angry with you, and I was ashamed. So I …' </p><p>‘Yeah.’ </p><p>‘But I didn't stop you, of course not. And … Sixth year nearly killed … a lot of people. Nearly killed me. Granted, it’d be deserved.’ </p><p>‘Don’t say that.’ Potter’s voice was flat. Hard. </p><p>‘Well. Then it didn’t. Kill me, that is. And … er, Seventh year was not …’ He exhaled. ‘Saying “not good” is a bit of an understatement. But I accepted something about myself that year though, finally.’ Draco winced again. He wasn’t sure this was coming out right. ‘How I … feel about you.’ </p><p>Potter stayed silent. </p><p>Draco looked down at the pebbles in his hand, and rubbed his thumb against one. ‘I didn’t tell you. And one day … you left. That was that. I mean … of course I hadn’t told you. There was no point in telling you, because … well, I’m Draco Malfoy.’ He suppressed a groan, then rubbed a hand over his face—the one that wasn’t currently full of rocks. ‘And years passed. And it didn’t go away, it just … settled down, I think. Like a fire that’s burned down to embers. But then one day Pansy tells me she has something to show me. And it was you … dancing. Looking happy, and free, and wonderfully alive. And … and I started dancing too, alone in my flat.’ </p><p>‘You did?’ Potter asked quietly. </p><p>‘Er, yeah.’ He winced. It was an embarrassing thing to admit. Well … all of it was. ‘And this trip started as Pansy’s idea … she thought I had nothing to lose. And I suppose that’s true. But … I wasn’t thinking how intrusive it was to just … show up. You’d come here to leave the UK behind and have a new life and I had no right to barge in. After your show today, I’d decided to go back to my hotel, and then leave in the morning. I’d said a goodbye, in a way. It was closure enough. And then, afterwards, there you were … But I lied to you, when I should’ve said the truth from the start.’ He inhaled sharp. He’d gotten a bit out of breath after all that.  </p><p>Potter was silent.   </p><p>‘Are you upset?’ Draco asked. </p><p>‘No.’ </p><p>Maybe it was time Draco leave and go back to the hotel. He’d … laid it all out. Now he <i>truly</i> knew he’d "shot his shot”, or whatever Pansy had said. Though, it was more like getting a secret off his chest. And … that was actually a nice feeling. Now he could live the rest of his life knowing he’d gone out on a line once. He’d … said something that was hard. </p><p>Potter pushed himself up, and turned to face him, sitting cross-legged. ‘This is all your way of telling me you fancy me?’ </p><p>Draco winced. Sure, he could’ve just outright said that instead of the long-winded recap, he supposed. ‘Yes.’ </p><p>Potter reached for Draco’s hand—the one full of pebbles. The pebbles poured out onto Draco’s leg and tumbled back onto the ground as Potter laced his fingers in Draco’s. </p><p>Draco’s heartrate picked up speed. </p><p>Potter stared at their joined hands as he said, ‘I’m not looking to be in a new relationship right now.’ </p><p>‘Oh, yeah, I mean … that’s …' Good? Fine? <i>All right by Draco</i>? He winced, and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to, I don’t know, want to date me or something. I’m not really asking anything here. But … I am glad I told you. I’m glad you know, now.’ </p><p>Potter's thumb brushed against his knuckle. ‘I’m glad you told me, too. And I’m not sorry you’ve came to Ibiza.’ His head was still tilted down as he stared at their joined hands, but Draco noticed the edges of his mouth lifting. ‘You didn’t once try to convince me to go back. I appreciate that.’ </p><p>‘Oh …' Well, he wouldn’t’ve. It hadn’t even occurred to him; Potter was clearly happier here. Right in his element, in Draco’s opinion. </p><p>‘You haven’t demanded to know why I’m here, or whether there’s mentally something the matter with me …' </p><p>He blinked rapidly. ‘Has someone …' </p><p>Potter exhaled slow. ‘I moved to Barcelona first, when I left London. Weeks passed, and the guilt of my sudden desertion became harder and harder to bear. Eventually I had to tell my friends where I’d gone, and my reasons …’ Potter squeezed Draco’s hand, just a little. ‘It didn’t go over well.’ </p><p>‘Shit.’ </p><p>Potter laughed under his breath. ‘Yeah. The experience was painful, and damaging. I was so frustrated that they couldn’t just … just <i>let me</i> find myself for a little while. So I left Barcelona because I didn’t want them to be able to find me again, and I ended up here.’ </p><p>Draco squeezed Potter’s hand this time.  </p><p>‘Maybe I should’ve been easier on them.’ Potter looked off at the distant mountain to the right of them. His eyes glassy and unfocussed.  </p><p>‘Your life wasn’t really yours, for so many years,’ Draco said quietly. ‘You had an impossible weight on your shoulders, impossible tasks. And … terrible losses.’ He took a breath. ‘So you wanted to live in Spain … that’s your fucking prerogative, and sod their opinions. <i>It’s your life</i>. People are allowed to move away.’ </p><p>Potter smiled a little. ‘You seem to have found yourself.’ </p><p>The topic change momentarily stunned him.  </p><p>‘Back at school, I think I had the sense that you weren’t allowed to be yourself, or figure out how you felt about anything, on your own terms. It seemed like you had everything dictated to you, every opinion forced upon you … that you might not’ve known yourself either, like I didn’t.’ </p><p>Draco could only stare at Potter as he unravelled everything that’d taken Draco years to figure out. </p><p>‘Different circumstances, of course. I struggled with my own identity because I was told I was a Wizard one minute, and the sodding “Boy Who Lived” the next. And every single year at school had me risking my life, fighting a war, <i>being the central figure in a war</i>. A war I hadn’t even heard about until I was deep in the trenches of it.’ He took a breath.  </p><p>Draco squeezed his hand again.  </p><p>Harry looked deep into Draco’s eyes. Even in the moonlight, they pierced him. ‘You have this calmness to you now. Like you’ve sorted through all the junk in your head, filtered out the bad stuff you’d taken on or inherited … and …' His expression was unreadable. Fierce. ‘You seem to have turned out to be someone I’d like to know, after all.’ </p><p>Draco blinked rapidly, and a laugh burst out of him. Short and breathy. Potter’s words … made his chest warm. ‘Regret not taking my hand that first day, now, eh Potter?’  </p><p>He shook his head, rolling his eyes. But he smirked like he was amused.  </p><p>Draco sucked his bottom lip in, and just looked at Potter. This was … a blessing. Even if he never saw Potter again … this was … <i>good</i>. ‘Thank you … for saying those things. I do feel more at peace, I think. The most at-peace I’ve ever been, really. And the most myself I know how to be.’  </p><p>Potter nodded, looking back at him. His eyes shone in the moonlight … it made it a little harder to breathe. Merlin. Draco had it bad. But … that was okay. He could handle it. </p><p>‘When are you going back?’ Potter asked. </p><p>‘Oh, ah, well, I guess tomorrow.’ He’d done everything he’d originally planned, and more. Plus, he’d already bothered Potter enough. </p><p>‘Why? Stay a few days. We can hang out; I can show you more of the island.’ </p><p>Draco considered him. ‘You think …’ </p><p>Potter nodded.  </p><p>‘Well … I suppose I … could stay a little longer …' He furrowed his brow. ‘I’ve a board meeting I can’t miss on the 16th, but other than that …' </p><p>Potter smiled. ‘It’s settled then. What’s your hotel? I’ll call you tomorrow morning.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Songs mentioned in this one: </p><p>Britney Spears - Oops!...I Did It Again<br/>Mary J. Blige - Family Affair</p><p>Thank you for reading ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something loud woke Draco up in a panic. As he came to, it became clear that the sound was an awful ringing. Like that of a sodding Muggle telephone.  </p>
<p>He blearily looked around, and it all came back to him—he was in a hotel room. In Ibiza. It was day, he assumed, since sunlight was streaming in through the curtains. </p>
<p>And a Muggle telephone <i>was</i> ringing, right on the nightstand. <i>Too loud</i>. It was obnoxious. Horrible. </p>
<p>He picked up the detachable part and brought it slowly to his ear.  </p>
<p>‘You’re supposed to say “hello”, Draco.’ </p>
<p><i>Draco</i>. </p>
<p>He blinked rapidly, and tried to swallow, but his mouth was quite dry. ‘Hello.’ </p>
<p>A happy laugh came through the plastic device. ‘Good morning.’ </p>
<p>‘Good morning, Harry Potter.’ </p>
<p>‘Harry’s fine.’ Draco could hear the smile in Potter’s voice. </p>
<p>He grumbled.  </p>
<p>Another laugh. Merlin, Potter/Harry was lively in the morning. ‘Do you like iced coffee?’ </p>
<p>Draco blinked. ‘Er … I’m not sure.’ </p>
<p>‘Do you like regular coffee?’ </p>
<p>‘Not really.’ </p>
<p>Potter/Harry laughed. ‘All right. What about iced tea? Something fruity or something?’ </p>
<p>‘Yeah.’ </p>
<p>‘Perfect. I’ll be down in your lobby in an hour. How’s that sound?’ </p>
<p>‘Er, yeah. Okay.’ </p>
<p>‘See you then.’ A click. A long tone. Draco frowned, and placed the telephone back on its main bit.  </p>
<p>He squinted around the room. Right. He’d better get ready, then.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Draco exited the lift, and glanced around the hotel lobby. He smiled, despite his grogginess, because Harry was leaning over, sipping a tan-coloured drink from a straw, and watching the fish in the hotel’s aquarium swim around.<p>He was wearing cut-off jean shorts again. And a soft blue t-shirt. Fit as ever, really. </p>
<p>‘Hello,’ Draco said, stepping up next to him, eyeing the fish. A yellow and blue striped one swam past Harry’s face.  </p>
<p>Harry straightened, and smiled at Draco like he was genuinely happy. It was … well. ‘Hey.’ He handed Draco a plastic cup with a straw. ‘Ready?’ </p>
<p>Draco took the cup—the liquid inside was transparent light green. ‘Er, yeah. Yes.’ </p>
<p>‘It’s melon green tea.’ </p>
<p>Draco took a test sip, and swallowed. Nice. Fruity. Light. ‘It’s great. Thank you.’ </p>
<p>Harry hummed, and looked to the exit. ‘So, I was thinking breakfast first, yeah?’ </p>
<p>‘Sure.’ </p>
<p>They walked out the hotel together into the sunny street, and Harry turned to him. ‘Ah, and how do you feel about cars?’ </p>
<p>They stopped walking, right next to a compact white vehicle. Draco looked at it, and then up to Harry’s hesitant face.  </p>
<p>‘Well I’ve been in a Muggle bus before.’ </p>
<p>Harry let out a breathy laugh. ‘I see. Well I suppose it’s a similar idea. Just … smaller.’ </p>
<p>Draco bit at his lip and eyed the vehicle again. He wasn’t exactly a fan. But he trusted Harry. (If you couldn't trust Harry Potter, who could you trust?) ‘Okay. Let’s do it.’ </p>
<p>Harry smiled, and crinkled his eyes when he did. He unlocked the thing with a beep-beep noise triggered by some device pinched between his fingers. Harry opened the passenger door for Draco. </p>
<p>Draco took a breath, and then descended into the thing. A metal box on wheels. The seat was comfortable enough, and the inside smelled of vanilla. Harry shut the door gently and walked around the other side.  </p>
<p>Climbing into the driver's side, Harry strapped himself in and leaned forward to check the overhead mirror. Next, he stuck a key into a keyhole beside the wheel, and turned it. The whole machine whirled to life, and Draco gripped onto the edge of the seat without thinking. He wasn't quite sure about this. It did seem rather dangerous. </p>
<p>Harry tossed a glance at him, smiling. Then he paused, really looking at Draco. 'You all right?' </p>
<p>'Yes.' </p>
<p>Harry quirked an eyebrow, but didn't press him. 'Put on your seatbelt.' </p>
<p>Oh … Draco looked for the same type of strap that Harry had. Harry’d—what—produced it from someplace behind his shoulder? </p>
<p>'Other side.' </p>
<p>Right. Draco really needed to learn more about Muggle culture, because Harry probably thought him a complete idiot, and he really didn’t want Harry to think of him that way.  </p>
<p>Ah. There it was—a metal bit, sticking out near his shoulder. Tentatively he grasped it, and pulled. It unravelled a little, before halting full-stop. Draco tugged harder, and it wouldn't budge. </p>
<p>Harry was laughing under his breath, so Draco shot him a glare. Harry's face was friendly-enough though; he didn't seem to be laughing <i>at</i> Draco. </p>
<p>'Let go and it'll reset,' Harry said, smiling in the way that made his eyes crinkle shut a bit.  </p>
<p>Draco did, all while frowning at the damn thing. </p>
<p>'Now pull it out again in one sweeping motion, like this.' Harry demonstrated the movement with a hand across his body—from shoulder to hip. </p>
<p>Sighing, Draco muttered, 'Why are Muggles so needlessly complicated,' as he mirrored Harry's movement. The strap behaved this time, and he was able to click the metal bit into the clunky box-bit, just like Harry had done.  </p>
<p>'You got it,' Harry said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. 'Ready?' </p>
<p>'Yes, Potter.'  </p>
<p>Harry let out a breathy snort, correcting Draco with a, '<i>Harry</i>,' as he checked his mirrors again, and shifted a stick between them.  </p>
<p>He leant forward to check the road, as the machine moved forward—rather smoothly, actually. </p>
<p>Harry spun the wheel, and guided the thing onto the proper street, and accelerated.  </p>
<p>There was something very … well, <i>attractive</i>, about Harry’s competency in working the machine. Something about him being able to do something <i>well</i>, and with apparent ease, that Draco had no foreseeable talent in.  </p>
<p>He bit back a sigh. It didn’t do to think like this. </p>
<p>Buildings were passing them by, but it didn't necessarily feel like they were moving fast. Draco was … was feeling safe, despite what he might've predicted otherwise.  </p>
<p>'All right?' Harry asked. </p>
<p>'Yeah.' And he meant it. </p>
<p>They were driving inland, away from the water. </p>
<p>'Do you like tomatoes?' Harry asked, turning the wheel by crossing one hand over the other—and repeating the movement. </p>
<p>Draco blinked at him. 'Yes.' </p>
<p>'Bread?' </p>
<p>'<i>Yes</i>.' Seriously, who didn't like bread? </p>
<p>'Olive oil?' </p>
<p>'Sure.' </p>
<p>'Excellent. Let's go have an Ibizan breakfast, yeah?' He slowed the car to a stop behind another un-moving one, and adjusted the nob in between their seats.  </p>
<p>'Sure,' Draco said, leaning forward in his seat to eye the little shops with canvas awnings, the display of colourfully beaded bracelets at one place, the hanging weaved bags at the next.  </p>
<p>They seemed to be in a quiet little town. A couple meandered down the sidewalk, arm-in-arm, but other than them—there was no one else in immediate sight.  </p>
<p>Harry removed his key from the machine, undid his strap, and pushed the door open, stepping out. Draco eyed the box that secured the strap over himself, and pressed it, just as Harry had just done. The thing pushed in, and released the metal bit, sending it flying back from where it came—bumping into the car door on its way. </p>
<p>The door opened beside him, letting in a rush of warm air.  </p>
<p>'You got it,' Harry said, almost impressed, as he opened the door wider and waited for Draco to crawl out of the thing. </p>
<p>As they stood eye-to-eye, Harry gave him a once over. ‘All right? How was your first car trip? Not feeling sick, are you?’ </p>
<p>‘I’m quite fine, thank you.’ </p>
<p>Harry smiled at him, and led them down the sidewalk over to a cosy little beige restaurant with tables set out front. They were all arranged underneath a long awning, sheltering the few patrons there from the bright morning sun.  </p>
<p>The two of them settled into a table on the far edge, farthest they could get from other people.  </p>
<p>Draco took one look at the menu, and couldn't read it. 'Order for me?' </p>
<p>Harry smiled. 'Happy to.' He twisted round, and signalled for a waitress.  </p>
<p>A curly browned-haired woman walked over. She had an apron tied around her waist, and a tight-lipped smile.  </p>
<p>Then Harry prattled on in his easy way, and she answered back, smiling wider now. And Draco couldn't understand any of what was being said, but Harry seemed very much relaxed, in his element. </p>
<p>Harry gestured toward Draco, and caught his eye for a beat—and in that small moment he looked excited, with eyes shining, and Draco was happy to pretend it was because they were together, and not for some more reasonable explanation (such as getting to eat his favourite Ibizan breakfast, probably).  </p>
<p>Food, coffee (for Harry), and hot tea (for Draco) came along shortly.  </p>
<p>Draco took his first bite. Pan con tomate, it was called. Bright red crushed tomato pulp, fresh baked bread toasted crisp on the outside, warm and soft on the inside. Wholly delicious, and not too heavy.  </p>
<p>Every part of it tasted so fresh—the bread, the tomatoes.  </p>
<p>He looked up at Harry as he swallowed, to find Draco watching him. 'It's lovely.' </p>
<p>Harry smiled, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. 'Glad you like it.' </p>
<p>Draco tossed him a smile back, and took a sip of tea. And … they made a nice tea, too.  </p>
<p>'Did you bring a camera?' Harry asked. </p>
<p>'Mm?' Draco lowered his teacup. 'No, I did not.' </p>
<p>'Vacation without a camera? Well … I brought one.' He pulled a little palm-sized device out of his pocket. </p>
<p>Draco blinked at it—it was purple, and much smaller than the Wizarding kind. Did that mean their photos were smaller? He wondered, so he asked. </p>
<p>Harry laughed. 'No. It's digital, you can transfer the pictures onto a computer. Share them to Facebook and whatnot.' </p>
<p>Draco frowned. There it was again—computers. Were they really so bloody important? Civilisation had survived a very long time without them.  </p>
<p>Without warning, Harry raised the camera up. Draco's eyes widened as Harry clicked a button on the thing, and a flash of light nearly blinded him. 'There. Now you'll always have the memory of your breakfast today.' Harry pushed a button on the back of the thing, and smiled down at it. </p>
<p>'What?' </p>
<p>Harry showed him, a little screen on the back showed the photograph.  </p>
<p>Draco reached out, and Harry handed it over. </p>
<p>'I look a bit startled.' </p>
<p>'Candid shots are the best ones, don't you think? Otherwise people just smile funny anyway. And it looks forced.' </p>
<p>Draco shrugged. He didn't have an opinion. His family had generally gotten painted portraits done. He was sure his father wouldn't approve of cameras, let alone the Muggle kind. The thought made him smile. 'How do I …?' </p>
<p>'Ah it's dead simple. Just point and click the biggest button on the top there.' </p>
<p>Draco tilted it towards his breakfast. Sure, it was missing a couple bites, but it was still beautiful. Draco paused, and adjusted his mug to the side, then moved the cutlery to the left a bit.  </p>
<p>Harry laughed. 'Oh so you're a food blogger now.' </p>
<p>'I don't know what you're saying,' Draco muttered, as he clicked the big button. Another flash came out, and the picture flashed over the screen. </p>
<p>He looked up, and saw Harry smiling at him with only one side of his mouth. Well … two can play at this game. Draco raised his hand, and clicked the button. </p>
<p>Harry's eyebrows raised, but it was too late—Draco had captured him in that moment. Half-smiling. At him.  </p>
<p>'What have I done,' Harry said without any bite, reaching for his camera back.  </p>
<p>Draco let him take it. His meal was getting cold, after all.  </p>
<p>Afterwards, they piled back into the car. Draco was a little better at the "seat belt" this time around, when he remembered the one sweeping motion. </p>
<p>'Where are we going next?' </p>
<p>Harry tossed him a glance, before he turned the steering wheel to the right—one hand over the other—turning them onto a side street. 'I thought we'd go to Dalt Vila. It's the old town.'  </p>
<p>'Oh?' </p>
<p>'Yeah, um, the Phoenicians were here first—building a city on the hill, making a port out of it. In 7th century B.C.E., that is. Then the Romans came in, er, 2nd century B.C.E., or was it C.E.? I think B.C.E. The Byzantines came later. And then, in—ah the 13th century, <i>C.E.</i>, of course, the Catalans came. That's why the language is so common here, I guess. Berber pirates, and, er, the Ottomans came later. Spain took over in the 1700s, and Ibiza only just gained its autonomy in 1983.' </p>
<p>'<i>Harry</i>.' </p>
<p>'Mm?' </p>
<p>'You just knew all that?' Draco was <i>impressed</i>. Well … it's not that he thought Harry <i>wasn't</i> brilliant or anything—that wasn't it. Just, that was a lot of trivia all at once, and he never suspected Harry was a history buff. Afterall, word was he'd never even bothered to read Hogwarts: A History. </p>
<p>Harry cleared his throat, and stared very intently at the road. 'I thought you might like to know all that.' </p>
<p>Draco … was quite struck dumb. He stared at the side of Harry's face, without knowing how to respond.  </p>
<p>'Just did a bit of googling.' </p>
<p>'Goog-ling,' Draco tried out the word, slow. </p>
<p>Harry snorted, despite his obvious self-consciousness. 'The internet. Looked it up a bit this morning. Should've printed it out, really. But there you are.' </p>
<p>'Well … thank you.' </p>
<p>'Yeah. Lots of history, here. Where we're going is a UNESCO heritage site. It's all, like, fancy Renaissance architecture and cobbled streets and such. There's even a castle, but it's nothing like Hogwarts.' </p>
<p>'Sounds great.' </p>
<p>'There it is, you can see it, up ahead.' He nodded forward. </p>
<p>Draco tore his gaze away from Harry and saw it—stacks of mostly-white buildings set on a big hill. </p>
<p>Harry parked the car, and they set off into the old town. </p>
<p>And it felt like … like being in a different time.  </p>
<p>Draco had always liked old things—from Hogwarts itself to ancient old books in his father's library, to mysterious artifacts in shops like Borgin and Burkes. Something about … old knowledge, old ways of life. It was fascinating, just learning and imagining how others might’ve lived.  </p>
<p>And Dalt Vila was no different.  </p>
<p>He tried to imagine the Phoenicians, the Berber pirates, the ancient Romans, in this very place. </p>
<p>Draco let his fingertips trail against an old white wall—how many others had done the same, over the centuries? </p>
<p>And his feet stepped over worn-smooth grey-cobbled stones. When had they been laid? Who laid them?  </p>
<p>He heard a little click, and realised Harry wasn't beside him any longer. </p>
<p>He turned, and found Harry behind him, lowering his camera slowly, wearing a soft smile on his face. 'Harry—' </p>
<p>'Everyone needs vacation photos,' he said, most decidedly, and took long strides to catch up to him. </p>
<p>'I … suppose,' Draco relented. Felt rather strange to be Harry Potter's "model" though.  </p>
<p>They meandered about, eventually finding themselves inside an old church, <i>Catedral de la Verge de les Neus</i>, (or, in English, Cathedral of Our Lady of the Snows). Their feet echoed on the hard floors.  </p>
<p>'Who is the lady of the snows?' Draco asked softly. There was no one in sight, but it still felt as if they should keep their voices down. He wasn't sure why. </p>
<p>He tilted his head up, and admired the stark white of the arched ceiling, and the intricately-designed details painted in long columns reaching upwards, accentuating the height of it all. </p>
<p>'I think it must be Mary, it's usually Mary when they talk about a lady. The mother of Christ.' </p>
<p>'Ah that’s right … I’ve read a bit on Muggle religion.' He walked towards the altar, letting his fingertips graze across the smooth dark wood of the pews as he walked along.  </p>
<p>'Did you?'  </p>
<p>'Fascinating, isn't it? Wizards used to practice the same religions as Muggles—I suppose because we were more integrated back then. Magic was … a secret and private thing, for small gatherings within families or small communities.' </p>
<p>'So what changed?' Harry tilted his head back, and snapped a photo of the ceiling. </p>
<p>'I wonder …' Draco said, coming up close to the altar, eyeing the long table there, and hoping that it wasn't the sort used for sacrifices. Muggles didn’t do that anymore, did they? He turned to Harry, who took the opportunity to snap a quick picture of him in front of the altar and the massive organ behind him. Draco rolled his eyes, but chose not comment. 'Perhaps because we became too powerful, too strong united, that we thought <i>ourselves</i> gods.' </p>
<p>Harry seem to mull that over. 'But even with magic, we are just as infallible as Muggles. We even have more efficient means of murder. Muggles have guns, poisons, but there's always a chance of survival even then.' </p>
<p>Draco didn't have to remind Harry he was the only one to survive Avada Kedavra—he was the outlier in his argument here. Draco exhaled slow. 'Yes, but try telling some wizards they're going to die one day.' </p>
<p>'Some Muggles, too,' Harry said, smiling a little. </p>
<p>'Really?' </p>
<p>'Really. Perhaps it’s just human nature, then, especially in the young and reckless.' </p>
<p>Hmm. He thought Muggles would be a little more aware of their mortality, what with—well—their lack of protection spells and warding and such. 'Fascinating.' </p>
<p>Harry took a few steps closer, looking over Draco's shoulder at the organ pipes towering above. He glanced back at Draco, and asked, 'Is this you, now? More fascinated by Muggle culture, rather than …' </p>
<p>'Yes,' Draco hurried to answer. He didn't want Harry to think any of the possible answers to the end of his sentence. 'Just needed an education.' He licked his lips, realising he need to say more than just that. 'I do regret … my earlier opinions.’ He searched Harry’s eyes, and found him listening intently. ‘More than I can say, truthfully. I was wrong, and I freely admit that.' He dated a Muggle once, after all. But perhaps that wasn't enough to say either, it was a bit on par with saying <i>I'm not racist, I have a black friend</i> wasn’t it? ‘They’re just different, not … not worse.’ </p>
<p>Harry nodded. 'I'm glad you learned that. Or rather, unlearned your father's bigotry.' </p>
<p>'Yes,' Draco said slowly, feeling unease swirl up in his stomach. Surely his father was a difficult topic for them. He wasn't sure if he should say more, or let the topic of his father's bigotry drop. They both knew it, after all … </p>
<p>Harry tapped his knuckle on the closest pew to himself. 'Well. Shall we move on?' </p>
<p>'Sure.'  </p>
<p>Harry smiled, so Draco smiled back. </p>
<p>They left the church, and continued on their way, leisurely strolling the old streets.  </p>
<p>Harry stopped suddenly, and grabbed on to Draco's wrist.  </p>
<p>'Mm?' </p>
<p>'You need to buy some souvenirs,' Harry announced, setting off for the shop they'd just nearly passed. </p>
<p>Shaking his head, Draco followed. He wasn't aware vacationing came with set rules—photographs and souvenirs. It wasn't as if he were here for Ibiza itself, no matter how nice it’d ended up being. </p>
<p>'Who do you need to shop for?' Harry asked, near a display of salts. 'Your parents? Pansy?' </p>
<p>'Pansy,' he said. 'And some of my staff, I suppose.' Morgan, certainly. But if he got her something … </p>
<p>'Salt is a very good gift. It's Ibiza's most important natural resource, there's a huge salt reserve here.' </p>
<p>'All right.' </p>
<p>Harry piled three decorative jars of salt into a basket. </p>
<p>Draco meandered deeper into the store. Lots of handmade things—woven purses and clothing and candles and such. </p>
<p>'Draco, you need this.' Something was forcefully inserted into his palm. </p>
<p>Draco looked down, and … <i>what</i>? </p>
<p>A click, and flash of light came. </p>
<p>'Harry—' He felt his cheeks heat. </p>
<p>Harry laughed. </p>
<p>Draco was holding a carved wood penis. True to life. It had a cheerfully painted <i>Ibiza</i> on the side, along with a little palm tree. </p>
<p>And on the very end, where the bollocks would be, was a metal bottle opener. </p>
<p>'You <i>have</i> to get it.' </p>
<p>'No I bloody-well don't <i>have</i> to.'  </p>
<p>'I'm buying it for you.' </p>
<p>Draco shot him an exasperated look, and Harry just grinned back—cheerful as can be.  </p>
<p>'I don't even need a bottle opener for anything. It's not as if I drink beer.' </p>
<p>Harry shrugged. 'What if you have company over, someone who drinks beer?' </p>
<p>He blinked. Doubtful, that. 'Then they should bring along their own bottle opener.' </p>
<p>Harry rolled his eyes—actually rolled his eyes at Draco. Terribly rude. 'That's not good hostmanship.' </p>
<p>'<i>Hostmanship</i>,' he echoed dryly. </p>
<p>Harry grinned, and wrestled the cock out of Draco's fist (which in itself was a very weird thing to think too much about). 'You need it.' </p>
<p>Harry Potter was a ridiculous person. Too much sun had made him loopy. </p>
<p>Draco dropped it—letting Harry do as he felt necessary—and found himself next to a jewellery display full of lovely gold and gemstone pieces. Draco chose a bracelet for Pansy with multiple strands, some containing golden cube-shaped beads, others jasper spherical beads. He grabbed an herbal liqueur for Morgan, and a few more bottles of salt, then met Harry by the register. </p>
<p>Harry already had a bag in hand, and was leaning against the counter, smiling cheekily at him. Draco rolled his eyes in response, laying his choices down on the countertop. </p>
<p>He paid, and stuffed the paper receipt in his bag, as they walked out together. </p>
<p>'So,' Draco began, squinting at the change of light from interior to exterior. The day was certainly getting hot. 'Besides photographs, souvenirs, and carved replicas of male genitalia in bottle-opener form, are there any other requirements of my vacation that you’re aware of?' </p>
<p>Harry led him in what seemed to be an arbitrary direction. 'Let's see … you've already had some beach experience, you've tasted pan con tomate, you've danced in two clubs—one indoor, one outdoor …'  </p>
<p>Draco watched the smile fade from Harry's face. 'What?' he asked, and he asked it gently. </p>
<p>Harry seemed to come back into himself. 'Oh. Nothing. Yeah, you've just about covered the requirements, I think.' </p>
<p>'All right.' </p>
<p>The smile returned. 'Shall we break for lunch? Oh! I suppose you haven't had fresh fish or seafood yet, yeah? That's another requirement.' </p>
<p>'You said we were done with requirements.' </p>
<p>Harry shrugged happily, and set off for (presumably) a restaurant.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>They finished a lovely meal. Draco had ordered a wild seabass filet, and Harry had red tuna steak tacos. Harry'd even let him have a bite—delicious.<p>Afterwards, they found themselves walking the port at a relaxed pace, checking out the various boats and yachts.  </p>
<p>'Have you ever been on a boat?' Harry asked, walking with hands stuffed in his shorts' pockets. His souvenir bag hanging from a wrist.  </p>
<p>'Lord, no. A car is enough excitement for one vacation, I'm sure.' </p>
<p>Harry laughed. 'They're nice. It’s relaxing—you rock overtop the waves, almost like you’re in a cradle. They take you deep out to sea, so it's all blue skies and blue water as far as the eye can see.' </p>
<p>'Horrifying.' </p>
<p>Harry laughed, and bumped into him lightly. </p>
<p>Music started coming from someplace, muffled, with a bloke's voice speak-singing something. </p>
<p><i>It's been a long time (long time), we shouldn't've left you (left you), without a dope beat to step to (step to, step to, step to, step to).</i> </p>
<p>Harry winced and reached for something in his pocket. 'Sorry.' </p>
<p>Draco just blinked at him, and watched Harry pull out one of those Muggle mobiles and check the display.  </p>
<p>Harry glanced up at him again, and said, 'Sorry, I'll just be a moment.' He clicked something and brought it to his ear. 'Hey Dave … Oh … Ah, right. Sorry, yeah, I completely forgot … Yeah, well, the thing is,' Harry glanced at Draco again, scrunching up his brow, 'er, an old friend from school is in town … I'm not sure he wants to—' Harry scratched at his scalp.  </p>
<p>Friend? Suppose Harry couldn't say former nemesis turned somewhat-amiable acquaintance. Still, it sounded nice, really quite nice, to hear. </p>
<p>'Nah, mate, I'll just see you next week … Mmhmm, yeah, bye.' Harry lowered the thing and clicked something again before shoving it into his pocket. 'Sorry,' he said again, 'Just a mate.' </p>
<p>'That's … fine.' Draco was pretty sure Harry had just cancelled plans for him. 'Were you supposed to see that person today?' </p>
<p>'No,' Harry said quickly. 'Well, kind of. I guess I'd forgotten some mates and I had plans to go out tonight. But we do this every Saturday, so it's not really a big deal to skip one, really. I'll see them next week.' </p>
<p>'If you want to—' </p>
<p>Harry shook his head. 'It's fine. I want to hang out with you.' </p>
<p>'I mean, we could both go, I suppose … If you wanted.' </p>
<p>Harry studied him. 'You'd go out with me and my mates?' </p>
<p>He shrugged. 'Why not.' Could be interesting to see the sort of people Harry spends his time with here. And Draco didn't come here to be an inconvenience. If Harry feels he can't leave Draco to his own devises on a Saturday night, then, well, might as well try to compromise. </p>
<p>'You're sure?' Harry asked again, really staring intently into Draco's eyes. </p>
<p>'Yeah,' he said, more adamantly this time. 'I'll be nice.' </p>
<p>Harry blinked at that. 'I'm sure you would be.' He cleared his throat, and took out his mobile, staring at it. 'You really want to?' </p>
<p>'<i>Yes</i>.' </p>
<p>'Hmm. Well if you're sure.' </p>
<p>'I'm sure,' Draco said through a laugh. This was getting ridiculous.  </p>
<p>'Yeah, all right.' Harry lifted his mobile up so he could see it properly, and tapped the buttons several times. 'Just sending him a text,' he explained. </p>
<p>There was a chime nearly instantly. </p>
<p>'Dave's excited to meet you,' Harry murmured. He cleared his throat and fixed Draco with a serious look. 'Just remember I'm Evan, and um, I don't really talk about my life in the UK.' </p>
<p>'Yeah, no problem,' Draco said, blinking at him. 'Evan.' The name felt a bit weird to say out loud, but he'd have to get used to it—and soon. </p>
<p>Harry bit at his bottom lip, smiling a little. 'Sorry it's so complicated.' </p>
<p>'Not at all.'</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Harry Side-Alonged Draco to an alleyway nearby the pub, since apparently there'd be drinking and it was Dave's turn to be the "DD" today, meaning he'd drive them home, apparently.<p>'Are you much of a drinker?' Harry asked, leading Draco out of the alley. </p>
<p>'Not really. Glass of wine here and there.' </p>
<p>'Ah. Well don't let anyone pressure you. Ruben can get a bit pushy about taking shots with him,' he said as they turned right, and walked past a small supermarket, displaying baskets of colourful fruits out front. </p>
<p>'Oh. Right, noted.'  </p>
<p>They turned another right, and found themselves at a tiny pub, with a little Guinness sign hanging over the doorway.  </p>
<p>'This is Jack's,' Harry said, leading them forward, and opening the door for him. </p>
<p>They entered, and it <i>was</i> bloody tiny. The bar part took up about half the room, and a blonde barmaid was busy making drinks while two girls leaned up against it, watching her work. </p>
<p>Shouts and whoops startled Draco. The ruckus was coming from a group of blokes sat against the wall opposite the bar.  </p>
<p>Harry grinned, moving towards the group. And, tentatively, Draco followed. </p>
<p>'Ev!' An exceptionally tall and muscled dark-skinned man rose to his feet and enveloped Harry in a hug. Harry looked small in his arms—and that was saying something. </p>
<p>A rather wiry tan bloke with a shaved head stood up and clapped Harry on the back, while Harry was still hugging the first man. 'Good to see you, Evan.' </p>
<p>A third, heavy-set pale fellow with a scruffy brown beard got up, and hugged the two huggers.  </p>
<p>Right. This was interesting.  </p>
<p>The group of four pulled apart, and Harry turned back to Draco—not quite meeting his eyes. If Draco wasn't mistaken, Harry seemed emotional—touched—and like he was trying quite hard not to let it show.  </p>
<p>'Hey guys, this is Draco. My old schoolmate.' </p>
<p>The first bloke came forward first, extending his big hand, and grinning. 'Dave. It’s wonderful to meet you.' Ah. American. </p>
<p>Draco smiled politely, and took the hand. 'And you.' He had a gentle handshake, for such a strong-looking man. </p>
<p>The heavy-set man came closer, extending a hand as well. 'Draco, I am Dimitri.' Hmm, Russian possibly? </p>
<p>'Hello Dimitri.' </p>
<p>So the wiry one must be the drinker, then. 'Ruben,' the bloke said, extending a hand, eyeing him closely. French, definitely French. </p>
<p>Ruben seemed more serious than the others, so Draco wouldn't have guessed him to be the party one. Ruben starred straight into Draco's eyes, unblinking, as they shook hands firmly, <i>very</i> firmly. Draco tried very hard not to wince. </p>
<p>Dave clapped Ruben on the shoulder. 'No need to get territorial, honey. I'm sure Draco's very nice.' Dave met his eye, and winked. </p>
<p>'Yes, I’m sure,' Ruben said dryly, and Draco wasn't sure Ruben wholly meant it. The man turned around, and went back to his seat.  </p>
<p>Dave shot him a somewhat apologetic smile, and followed Ruben to a seat. </p>
<p>Harry cleared his throat, and shot Draco a smile. 'So, drinks?' </p>
<p>'Sure,' Draco said. 'Gin and tonic?' </p>
<p>Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Not wine?' </p>
<p>'You think it'd be good here?' Draco said wryly, shooting Harry his own lifted brow. There were sporting posters on the wall above Harry's head.  </p>
<p>That earned a breathy laugh. 'Appearances can be deceiving, Draco. We are in Spain.'  </p>
<p>Oh. Right. That was a bit rude of him, wasn't it? He exhaled in a long puff. 'Yeah, all right then. Red.' </p>
<p>Harry smirked—but in a rather friendly/teasing way—and turned to his friends. 'What are we having?' </p>
<p>Dave stood, and gripped onto Harry's bicep. 'No, this round's on me. You go ahead and sit.' He gave a little pat to Harry’s arm. </p>
<p>'Oh. All right,' Harry looked a bit baffled. 'Pint for me, then, and house red for Draco.'  </p>
<p>'No problem.' </p>
<p>Harry and Draco settled down into seats, and Draco surveyed everyone. Dimitri reached out to hold Harry's hand, shooting him a pitying look. </p>
<p>Odd. Draco immediately sat up straighter. </p>
<p>'I'm all right,' Harry breathed out.  </p>
<p>Ruben frowned at Harry, as Dimitri smiled sadly.  </p>
<p>'We are glad you came,' Dimitri said. </p>
<p>Well, this was all rather strange.  </p>
<p><i>Was</i> Harry all right? </p>
<p>Dave returned with a tray of drinks, passing them all around with a big smile. Draco liked him, he decided. He was friendly. </p>
<p>Dimitri raised his glass of something clear. The rest of them followed suit, Draco included. 'To Evan.' </p>
<p>'Evan,' came in response. Draco echoed it, just a beat late. </p>
<p>And the wine <i>was</i> quite good. Could stand to breathe for a bit more, though. </p>
<p>'Thanks, guys,' Harry said, looking at each of his friends faces in turn, while avoiding Draco’s eye. 'Honestly, I'm good. Let's just, ah, have a fun night, yeah?' </p>
<p>'Absolutely,' Dave agreed.  </p>
<p>Draco sipped at his wine, peering over the glass. There was a story here, and Draco was on the outside, looking in.  </p>
<p>'So, Draco, what was Evan like in school?' Dave asked with a grin, before taking a sip from his red drink. Cranberry juice, perhaps. </p>
<p>'Er,' Draco started, looking at Harry and meeting his eye. 'Evan was … quite into sport.' </p>
<p>Dave laughed. 'A jock?’ He held a hand over his heart. ‘Well I'd never guess. What was it, then, soccer? Or what's that other game you Englishmen play …' Dave scrunched his face up, looking up. 'Cricket?' </p>
<p>Draco blinked. He didn't know much about Muggle sports. There was the one with kicking a ball, that much he knew. </p>
<p>'Football, yeah,' Harry supplied.  </p>
<p>'Right. Football. Suppose it makes more sense to call it that, huh?' </p>
<p>Ruben grimaced. 'Let's not talk about these things tonight, this was supposed to be a good time.' </p>
<p>Dave laughed. 'Sure, honey.' Then he turned back to Draco, grinning, evidently not ready to give up. His teeth were very white. 'What else?' </p>
<p>'Well there's not much to say, really.' It <i>was</i> rather amusing to think of Harry's childhood as dull, but he didn’t let that show on his face. 'He was decent enough with his studies, but, er, rather impertinent with authority figures sometimes.' That earned a snort from Harry, and a laugh from Dave. 'As I said, he was quite focussed on, ah, <i>football</i>.' </p>
<p>'Mm, okay. Nothing juicy then?' </p>
<p>Draco shook his head, and shrugged. 'No.' </p>
<p>'What about you two, how long have you been friends?' </p>
<p>He did not know how to answer that, because approximately 24 hours wouldn't be proper to say aloud if he didn't want to invite further questioning.  </p>
<p>'We didn't like each other much in the early years,' Harry stepped in. 'But we got to know and understand each other better in our senior years.' </p>
<p>Hmm. Well that wasn't really a lie, now was it? </p>
<p>They locked eyes, and Harry smiled at him. </p>
<p>'Interesting,' said Dave.  </p>
<p>And Draco could feel Ruben scrutinising him. </p>
<p>'Did you two fuck?' Dimitri asked happily, in his thick accent. </p>
<p><i>Merlin—</i> </p>
<p>'<i>No</i>,' Harry said, laughing. 'Jesus, Dimitri.' </p>
<p>And Draco was grateful that his father taught him how to keep emotions off his face, because otherwise he'd most certainly be blushing, and probably spluttering some nonsense. </p>
<p>(He may actually be blushing a bit). </p>
<p>'Did you want to?' </p>
<p>The smile faded off Harry's face a fraction.  </p>
<p>'That means yes,' Dimitri said happily, looking at his friends for back up. </p>
<p>Ruben had begun to openly glare at Draco, and Dave seemed amused by the whole thing beside him.  </p>
<p>Draco cleared his throat. 'We're just friends,' he said, making Dimitri frown.  </p>
<p>'Anyway,' said Harry. 'I think it's time for the next round.' He stood up, and eyed Draco's half-empty glass. 'Another?' </p>
<p>Fuck, if they were going to keep talking like this, then yes, he'd need one. 'Yes, please.' </p>
<p>Harry walked off to collect drinks for all of them from the bar. </p>
<p>Dave clapped a hand on Draco's back, making him jump. He leaned in close to say, 'Thank you for getting Evan out of the house. You don't know how much we've tried, even <i>begged</i> to get him out with us again. It's good of you to visit Ibiza too, just when he needs a good friend the most.' </p>
<p>Draco blinked at him. 'I'm … er, it's no problem, really. Happy to, ah, be here.' </p>
<p>What on earth had happened? Harry seemed completely normal and happy to him. He laughed, he joked around … there was nothing to indicate he was going through something serious. </p>
<p>'Well, thank you, seriously.' Dave looked at him pointedly, with a growing smile. 'He does seem better today, much better than we last saw him. I think your visit is helping.' </p>
<p>'He does seem all right,' Draco said tentatively, turning to look at Harry's back, slumped forward against the bar.  </p>
<p>'Hasn't cried,' Dimitri added, looking at Harry's back thoughtfully. </p>
<p>Merlin … had someone died? What was going on? </p>
<p>'Don't jinx it,' Dave said. </p>
<p>'What are your intentions with Evan?' Ruben asked, his tone icy.  </p>
<p>'<i>Ruben.</i>'  </p>
<p>Draco tore his eyes from Harry's back and found Ruben leaning forward, fixing him with a glare. </p>
<p>'Like I said,' he started, carefully. 'We're just friends.' </p>
<p>'He is delicate.' </p>
<p>Draco blinked at that. 'I'm not here to, I don't know, manipulate him or anything.' </p>
<p>Ruben narrowed his eyes. </p>
<p>'Give it up, darling. You're acting crazy,' Dave said gently, pulling Ruben in closer to kiss the top of his shaved head. Ruben's expression did not change, not even from the kiss.  </p>
<p>Harry returned with a tray of drinks, sinking into his seat. He tossed a small smile at Draco. But Draco forgot to return it, he was studying Harry's face.  </p>
<p>Harry picked up his pint, and took a good long drink. Hmm. </p>
<p>He swallowed it down, and licked the foam off his top lip. 'Not bothering Draco, you lot, are you?' </p>
<p>'Not at all,' Dave said. 'Was just saying we're grateful he got you out of the house.' </p>
<p>'I leave the house.' </p>
<p>'For work.' </p>
<p>'Which is out of my house. Anyway, how's the Clubhouse?' He tossed Draco a glance. 'Dave runs a LGBTQ+ drop-in program for youth.' </p>
<p>'That's amazing,' Draco said, and he meant it. </p>
<p>Dave grinned, clearly proud. 'Thanks, Draco. Well … the expansion is going well. Three more weeks until we can open up the new art room. The kids are really excited for that—we'll have a kiln, so I'm looking forward to figuring out how to make my own mugs and bowls and all that stuff.' </p>
<p>'Sounds like that'll be fun,' Harry said.  </p>
<p>'Just don't burn it down,' Ruben added. </p>
<p>Dave rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. 'There will be a real art instructor. Not just me, pushing random buttons and making things explode.' </p>
<p>Ruben raised an eyebrow. 'Better be.' </p>
<p>'Draco's a charity founder, you probably have a lot you could discuss,' Harry added in. </p>
<p>'Oh really?' Dave asked, looking at Draco with interest.  </p>
<p>'Yes,' Draco said, nodding slowly. Harry seemed quite happy to've shifted the focus of conversation from himself to youth drop-ins and charities.  </p>
<p>'I'd love to hear about what you do,' Dave said.  </p>
<p>Well, all right. Draco launched into a modified explanation, leaving out all the bits about the Wizarding War and Squibs and anything that made reference to magic. Draco didn't specify the war—but surely Muggles still had wars, too? Thankfully Dave didn't press for details on that front.  </p>
<p>Soon, it was Dimitri's turn to get a round.  </p>
<p>When there was a lull in Draco and Dave's conversation, Harry leaned in and asked quietly, 'All right? Having fun?' </p>
<p>Merlin. Draco should be asking Harry that. 'Yeah,' he said, instead.  </p>
<p>And Harry smiled at him, going back to his drink. </p>
<p>Hmm. </p>
<p>Draco was getting a good buzz on by this point. He should probably slow down, but then there was a fresh wine glass set in front of him. </p>
<p>He felt good. Quite good. </p>
<p>They all continued chatting, and mainly Draco chatted with Dave. His story was rather fascinating: his father was American military, so he’d gotten to travel all over—from different “bases” in the United States, to all over Europe. </p>
<p>When he came out as gay to his parents, he’d been kicked out. Just like that ... Draco had heard Muggles had prejudices, but he didn’t think it’d be for something as ridiculous as being attracted to someone with the same contents under their pants.  </p>
<p>‘That’s bollocks,’ he told Dave, frowning. </p>
<p>Dave laughed, still able to smile throughout his tale. ‘I agree. I was homeless for a bit, but a queer centre in Munich helped me sort things out—helped me get a job, get an apartment. And one day I ended up here,’ Dave looked around at his friends, and settled lovingly on Ruben. ‘It was my dream to help people, like I’d been helped. And here I am.’ </p>
<p>‘That’s …' Draco sucked in a breath, and smiled softly. ‘Really admirable.’ </p>
<p>Just then, Dimitri decided to ask everyone, 'Time for Lolas?'  </p>
<p>'Hmm?' </p>
<p>Harry leaned in. He smelled nice. Draco had missed his smell. 'It's, ah, a gay club.' He looked at Draco with uncertainty. 'We don't have to—' </p>
<p>'I'm game,' Draco said. He was definitely well on his way to intoxicated, and dancing was about all he wanted to do.  </p>
<p>Harry blinked at him. 'Have you been to a gay club before?' </p>
<p>'Of course. I'm gay, aren't I?' </p>
<p>'Sure, it's just … I don't know, can't really picture it I guess.' </p>
<p>Granted, it'd been a few years since those late nights with Rodney, Lin, and Pansy. <i>Rodney</i>—Merlin, why was he thinking of him now? Draco frowned.  </p>
<p>Harry cleared his throat and straightened, looking around at his friends. 'All right, let's go.' </p>
<p>They clambered up out of their seats, and Draco swayed a bit on his feet before he could get his bearings. But he was good. He was brilliant, actually. He was with Harry Potter in Ibiza—was anything better?</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Lolas was bathed in red light, and pulsing with moving bodies. A throbbing beat played loud over the speakers—it was music without words and Draco felt it, felt the bass pounding in his chest. They pushed in passed all the people, and found the bar.<p>As promised, Ruben produced five shots for the lot of them.  </p>
<p>Harry made eye contact with Draco, and Draco smiled to tell him it was all right. He was feeling fucking fantastic, and he didn't want to lose that.  </p>
<p>They clinked their little glasses, and said a round of "salud". Draco downed his, and found it tasted pleasantly of coconut, and didn't seem too boozy at all. It was nice. </p>
<p>He said as much in Harry's ear. </p>
<p>'Be careful.' But Harry's eyes were shining.  </p>
<p>Draco could smell him again. He smelled like the ocean, like the stars. </p>
<p>All right, maybe he <i>should</i> be careful. </p>
<p>'Draco, dance with me,' half-yelled Dave, taking Draco's shot glass out of his hand and setting it on the bar. He grabbed for Draco's hand, and led him off onto to the dancefloor. Draco allowed himself to be pulled, exchanging an amused glance with Harry. </p>
<p>Dave led him into the centre, and began moving to the beat. Dave danced like water. Every movement flowed seamlessly into the next. They were so close—Draco could feel the heat off him. Lord, the man was tall. Draco had to crane his neck if he wanted to get a look at his face. </p>
<p>And Dave was grinning down at him. He bit his lip, and lowered his hips towards the floor.  </p>
<p>Draco tried to keep up. But he was British and raised in ballrooms, so he was never going to escape a certain stiffness. The alcohol helped, though. And Dave didn't seem to mind.  </p>
<p>The song shifted into something else, and Ruben came up between them. 'Je m'excuse,' he said firmly. </p>
<p>Draco let out a little laugh, and smiled at Dave before pushing through the crowd. </p>
<p>He emerged out into the bar area, and found Harry leaning with his back against the bar, sipping a red drink. When he noticed Draco, a warm, lazy smile grew on his face. </p>
<p>Draco stepped closer, and as he did, Harry reached around behind himself and produced another red drink—holding it out for Draco. </p>
<p>'Thank you,' he shouted, taking it. </p>
<p>Harry leaned in, 'It's Amante Passion. It's fucking delicious.' </p>
<p>Draco laughed, feeling a shiver travel up his spine from Harry's breath on his ear. He took a sip, and yeah, Harry was right. It was fruity, and not too sweet. Didn't taste boozy at all.  </p>
<p>Harry smirked at him, and took another sip, looking out at the crowd—lazily scanning it, like he was content. </p>
<p>'You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen,' Draco said at a normal volume, so it didn't travel over the music.  </p>
<p>Harry eyes moved slowly, from right to left, as if he were watching someone pass by. </p>
<p>‘And I …’ Draco didn’t even bother to look at what Harry was seeing. ‘And I would do anything to see you happy.’ </p>
<p>Harry took another long drink, then turned to Draco. In this red light, his eyes looked brown.  </p>
<p>He leaned in again, whispering in Draco's ear, 'Dance with me?' </p>
<p>'Mmhmm,' Draco murmured. The hairs on his arms were standing up, and he could already feel his heartrate picking up—in a good way. In a very good way.  </p>
<p>There was nowhere in the world he'd rather be, than right there, in this moment. The night felt like it could last forever, if he could will time itself to stop. And in the moment, he felt he just might have that power.  </p>
<p>Draco downed the rest of his glass, and set it on the edge of the bar counter.  </p>
<p>Harry smiled at him, lopsided and perfect, taking his hand. </p>
<p>He led Draco in through the crowd, pushing past blokes grinding up on one another, blokes snogging, and Draco might've spotted a hand down the back of someone's trousers. </p>
<p>Harry stopped and swung Draco into him, taking his other hand. Laughing, Draco once again allowed himself to pulled into a ballroom dance that would've been more appropriate at the Hogwarts' Yule Ball.  </p>
<p>Just the memory of that night, brought an aching nostalgia he felt in his chest. Little fourteen-year-old Harry, in his little black and white robes, his hair a shaggy mess, and his longing glances at Cedric and Cho. Why couldn't Draco have just been … well, more aware of himself?  </p>
<p>It didn't matter. He was here now, being twirled under Harry's arm.  </p>
<p>The pulsing beat of the music shifted, and Harry brought Draco close to his chest, dropping his hands. </p>
<p>Dancing shifted from that light-hearted waltz, to something more akin to what the other people were doing all around them.  </p>
<p>Harry tucked his chin in, and danced close—rocking and contracting in time to the music. Draco could feel the heat off his body, the warm breath ghosting over his cheek. </p>
<p>Draco squeezed his eyes shut, and really focussed on the music pulsing through him.  </p>
<p>Warm, heavy arms wrapped loose around Draco's shoulders, and Harry pulled him in a fraction closer so their knees brushed. </p>
<p>Draco's heart was really beating hard now, but he wasn't really bothered. The alcohol in his system was telling him not to overthink it.  </p>
<p>Their movements synchronised, and Harry's breaths seemed to speed up on the side of Draco's face.  </p>
<p>Harry leant his forehead against the side of Draco's—hot and slightly damp from sweat. His curls brushed against him.  </p>
<p>Should Draco be doing something with his arms? </p>
<p>The thought had only just occurred to him, since Harry's were around his shoulders and Draco's were held at a slight angle just inches from Harry's waist. </p>
<p>Did he want to push this just a bit farther? (Yes.) </p>
<p><i>Should</i> he? (Probably not.) </p>
<p>But the alcohol said: fuck it, just go for it. </p>
<p>So Draco reached for Harry's hips, the loose cotton t-shirt over firm muscle there.  </p>
<p>Harry moved in even closer, still moving rhythmically, as he inserted a knee between Draco's legs. </p>
<p>And Draco sucked in a breath.  </p>
<p>Draco's fingers drifted below the hem of Harry's shirt, and came up underneath it, to fumble against bare, hot skin. Draco hooked his fingers into Harry's shorts. </p>
<p>Harry tilted his head so their cheeks pressed together. His breath came in heavy bursts against Draco's ear. 'Draco Malfoy,' he said under his breath, and there was a hint of amusement and disbelief in his voice. </p>
<p>This was fucking brilliant, and no, Draco was not going to overthink it.  </p>
<p>They moved and pulsed to the beat, their bodies warm and rubbing up in places Draco hadn't consciously planned.  </p>
<p>And it was probably thanks to the excessive amount of alcohol in his system that he wasn't throbbingly hard at that very moment.  </p>
<p>Harry leaned in closer to Draco's ear, and his lips brushed against the shell of it. 'Let's swim together later.'  </p>
<p>It sent a shiver through Draco—standing his hair on end. </p>
<p>He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering Harry, naked and floating in the water, under a canopy of stars. </p>
<p>He could only nod against Harry.  </p>
<p>His fingertips brushed against the smooth skin of Harry's gently moving hips. </p>
<p>Harry's arms loosened on Draco, as Harry drew back to face him. His eyelids were heavy, but he opened them slowly, revealing dilated pupils. And Draco forgot to breathe.  </p>
<p>Harry licked at his bottom lip, and those eyes drifted down to Draco's mouth. </p>
<p>Shit. </p>
<p>Shit, shit, fuck.  </p>
<p>Because … because they were both very much drunk and it didn't do to kiss. Not here. Not now. (If that was what Harry was thinking—it may <i>not</i> be what he was thinking.) No. They definitely can't kiss.  </p>
<p>Quickly, Draco leaned in towards Harry's ear. 'I just need to piss. I'll be back.' </p>
<p>Harry's mouth opened a fraction, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he nodded.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Fuck, it felt so good to piss.<p>And he was pissing rather a lot. Too many wines and cocktails, perhaps.  </p>
<p>Fuck. Curse his sense of morality. He could be snogging Harry Potter right now. </p>
<p><i>Fuck.</i> </p>
<p>No. It was best this way. So very much for the best. </p>
<p>His sober brain will thank his intoxicated brain later. It will. </p>
<p>Someone straddled up next to him, unzipping their flies, right at the urinal next to him when there were two others open. </p>
<p>He felt eyes on him. Draco looked to his right, and found a handsome blond bloke checking out his cock—openly.  </p>
<p>'Not interested,' Draco murmured, giving himself a shake and tucking back in. </p>
<p>He turned and walked over to the sinks.  </p>
<p>'I saw you with Evan. Dancing.' The man said, talking over the sound of his piss. ‘You looked close.’ </p>
<p>Hmm. The bloke had some sort of accent he was too inebriated to decipher.  </p>
<p>'So?' Draco asked, turning the tap on, wetting his hands.  </p>
<p>The bloke turned from the urinal, zipping himself up, and practically <i>strutted</i> over to Draco. It was a bit ridiculous really, and Draco thought he might even tell him so. </p>
<p>'Evan is my fiancé,' the man said, coming up to the sink next to him.  </p>
<p>Their eyes met in the mirror—he had ice-blue eyes. Cold. He even did the slicked-back hair that Draco had done in his Hogwarts days, only with shaved sides. This man was a villain, Draco decided. And he knew villains. </p>
<p>'Does Evan know that?' he drawled. This was a bit fun—he almost felt fourteen again. </p>
<p>The man scowled, spitting out, 'Of course. You're wasting your time, if you want more than a quick fuck.' He wet his hands. 'He belongs to me. Just a piece of friendly advice.' </p>
<p>'Evan belongs to no one but himself—what era are you living in?’ Draco scoffed. ‘Besides, I think he is quite well-equipped to choose his own partners, and—<i>furthermore</i>—decide how often he wishes to fuck them.'  </p>
<p>'You think a pathetic fanboy like yourself knows anything about Evan James? You see only what he <i>wants</i> you to see. He will be done with you, and back to me tomorrow.' </p>
<p>Draco snorted. <i>Fanboy</i>? 'I know him better than you.' His real name, for one.</p>
<p>This bloke got in Draco's face. He had terrible sour beer breath. 'Just who do you think you are?' </p>
<p>He’d had just about enough of this. </p>
<p>'I'm Draco Malfoy, you fucking fopdoodle!' He made a wiping motion near this villain's face, effectively erasing him. Then he twirled and showed the man a proper strut straight out of there. </p>
<p>Once out the bathroom, Draco burst out laughing. He swiped a hand over his face and veered towards the bar to grab another cocktail. Well that'd been something. What an absolute lunatic. </p>
<p>He spotted Dave leaning up against the bar, collecting drinks. Draco pushed past people, saddling up next to him. Draco laid a hand on Dave’s bulging bicep to steady himself. Lord, the man was muscular.  </p>
<p>'Draco, hey,' Dave said loudly, close enough to Draco's ear so he could hear. 'Want another Amante Passion?' </p>
<p>'Yes,' he shouted back.  </p>
<p>Dave signalled the bartender. </p>
<p>'I had quite the bathroom experience,' Draco stood up on his tip-toes to tell him. </p>
<p>Dave looked positively amused, with both eyebrows raised. '<i>Draco</i>, you sly dog.' </p>
<p>He blinked at him. 'Oh, not like <i>that</i>. Met a bloke who claims to be Evan's <i>fiancé</i>.' </p>
<p>Dave expression changed in an instant, and he looked around the room. Looked rather concerned, actually. 'Shit, really? <i>Fuck</i>.' He turned back to Draco with wide-eyes. 'Where is Evan?' </p>
<p>Draco shrugged. 'I left him because I had to piss.' </p>
<p>'Where?' </p>
<p>He shrugged again, and squinted out at the crowd. Sort of near the back there, he supposed. Draco pointed.  </p>
<p>Dave shoved off from the bar, abandoning the drinks, and pushed through the crowd.  </p>
<p>Frowning, Draco snatched up three drinks in both his hands, and worked on following Dave—who'd already disappeared.  </p>
<p>He wobbled through the crowd, only spilling a little bit onto his fingers and onto the floor, probably. Maybe a little on a couple people, but they’d bumped him so he was hardly at fault. </p>
<p>Once on the outskirts of the crowd, Draco spotted Dave past the entranceway, stood out on the sidewalk beside Harry. Dave was wringing his hands starring at someone, and Harry seemed to shouting something—his face all red and screwed up with pain. And anger. </p>
<p>The sight instantly gave a terrible jolt to Draco—signalling something. Danger, perhaps.  </p>
<p>Draco took another step, and spotted him. The bathroom-arsehole.  </p>
<p>Without hesitation, he hurried out to join them, sloshing the drinks around even worse.  </p>
<p>'<i>Fuck off, Nils</i>,' Harry bit out, and it sounded wet.  </p>
<p>Oh. Draco looked, and saw tears in Harry’s eyes—threatening to spill over. </p>
<p>'Evan,' the bathroom guy said, sounding rather patronising, really. And he took a step closer to Harry.  </p>
<p>Harry backed up a step. 'I told you to stay the fuck away from me!' </p>
<p>Draco suddenly felt a cold sense of calm. He wasn't too drunk to defend Harry, if need be. He took a step closer and squared up. </p>
<p>'Evan,' the man repeated, in that same tone. 'We're <i>engaged</i>, we love each other.' </p>
<p>'Not anymore!' Tears were streaming down Harry's cheeks now, and he fumbled to wipe them away quickly.  </p>
<p>'Evan,' Draco began. He was the calm before the storm. 'I have three drinks here, if you'd like to select one to throw in this man's face.' </p>
<p>Harry made a choking sound; it might've almost been a laugh. He looked at Draco, wide-eyed. And Draco imagined Harry hated him to see him like this.  </p>
<p>The ex, or whatever he was, scowled at Draco. 'This is a personal matter.' </p>
<p>Ignoring him, Draco said, 'I believe Evan told you to fuck off.' He raised his eyebrows to help make his point.  </p>
<p>The man glowered.  </p>
<p>Harry wiped his eyes again, with the base of his palm, and Draco pretended not to notice.  </p>
<p>'He has your mobile number? Good. He'll ring if he wants to,' Draco continued, not pausing for a response.  </p>
<p>The arsehole turned to Harry. 'Evan …' </p>
<p>'What Draco said.' Harry sniffed and held his chin high.  </p>
<p>Good for you, Harry, Draco thought.  </p>
<p>'Fine, but we need to sort this out sometime,' the bloke said, glaring once more at Draco, before walking off with a grunt. </p>
<p>Dave, who'd been a silent presence beside Harry the whole time, pulled Harry into a hug. He tossed Draco a grateful smile over Harry's head.  </p>
<p>While he waited for Dave and Harry to finish their hug, he sipped from his Amante Passion. Delicious, but he found he felt a bit too miserable to properly enjoy it. </p>
<p>'Why don't we get out of here?' Dave asked to the top of Harry's curls.  </p>
<p>Harry nodded into Dave's very muscular chest.  </p>
<p>Dave caught Draco's eye. 'Find Ruben and Dimitri and we'll go?' </p>
<p>He shrugged, and spilled a bit more drink. 'Okay.' </p>
<p>He spun round and entered into the crowd again, searching for the two blokes. He passed all the sweaty, gyrating bodies, knocking around the drinks some more, and finally pushed out into the bar area. Dimitri and Ruben were ordering more drinks, leaning against the bar and happily chatting.  </p>
<p>'Hey,' Draco half-shouted, coming up in between them. 'Time to go.' </p>
<p>'What?' asked Dimitri. </p>
<p>He gestured with the drinks towards the exit, sloshing them around. 'Leave. Home.' </p>
<p>Dimitri and Ruben exchanged a perplexed look.  </p>
<p>'Evan's ex is here,' Draco nearly-shouted, eyeing them pointedly. </p>
<p>'Fuck,' said Ruben, pushing off from the bar. </p>
<p>'Quite,' Draco said, following Ruben's exit. And Dimitri trailed along after them. </p>
<p>They burst out onto the street, and saw Harry and Dave's backs slowly moving away down the sidewalk towards Dave's vehicle. Dave's arm was around Harry's shoulders, and Harry seemed a bit stumbly.  </p>
<p>Draco, Dimitri and Ruben followed after them.  </p>
<p>Dave beep-beeped his car open, and walked around to the driver's side. He looked up at Harry, tossing him a kind smile, then opened the door and slipped inside. </p>
<p>Harry hesitated by the car door, and looked back at the group of them.  </p>
<p>He looked sad. And blotchy from tears. But he was looking at Draco, and his eyes dropped to Draco's hands. </p>
<p>A small smile grew on his mouth.  </p>
<p>Ruben and Dimitri popped into the car, eyeing Harry with concern as they passed him, but saying nothing.  </p>
<p>'Hello,' Draco said, coming up to face Harry. </p>
<p>'You've stolen glassware,' Harry said, looking down at Draco's hands. </p>
<p>Ah, right. The sodding drinks he's carting around for some reason. So as not to waste them, he supposed.  </p>
<p>'Are you going to phone the police?' he asked, rearranging the glasses more comfortably in his sticky fingers. </p>
<p>Harry laughed, and it was a lovely thing to hear. 'Probably not. Guess that makes me an accessory to the crime.' </p>
<p>'Yes it does.' He glanced up at Harry. 'You should consider your next actions very carefully.' He worried his bottom lip, and some girls in matching leopard-print dresses noisily passed by them. 'Going to Muggle jail can't be very fun.' </p>
<p>A breathy laugh. 'I'm sure every sort of jail is unpleasant.' He was lovely—even with red eyes and wet clumpy eyelashes. </p>
<p>'Want one?' Draco asked, holding the three drinks out. </p>
<p>'Sure, thank you.' Harry took the blue one. </p>
<p>'No one drank from it yet, I spilled it on myself and the floor.' </p>
<p>'Did you?' Harry said, with amusement in his voice, as he brought the glass up to his lips and took a drink.  </p>
<p>Draco downed the rest of his Amante Passion.  </p>
<p>'Hey, you guys coming?' asked Dave, leaning over to peer at them out the window. </p>
<p>‘Yes,’ Draco said, but made no moves towards the car door. </p>
<p>Harry handed back his empty glass, taking the third clear one and drinking a big gulp. He swallowed and met Draco’s eyes. ‘Water. Maybe not a bad idea. Want some?’ </p>
<p>‘Yeah, all right.’ Water might be a reasonable idea. He accepted the glass and downed the rest. Three empty glasses were firmly entwined in his sticky fingers. He eyed them, and said, ‘More souvenirs for me.’ </p>
<p>Harry laughed under his breath. ‘Not quite like a wooden cock though.’ </p>
<p>‘No,’ Draco laughed and bit his lip. ‘Not nearly as <i>practical</i>.’ </p>
<p>With matching small smiles, they finally appeased Harry’s friends and climbed into the backseat of the car. Draco ended up in the middle, a bit squished between Dimitri and Harry. Ruben twisted round from the front seat and eyed Draco with a look he couldn’t quite decipher. It didn’t seem unfriendly, though. </p>
<p>‘Everyone ready? Seatbelts on?’ Dave asked. </p>
<p>Ah, shit. Not that buggering thing again. He looked back behind his shoulder and found nothing. Next shoulder then. And ... shit, there was nothing there. </p>
<p>‘Draco’s still taking care of his,’ Harry said with a snort. He then dug his fingers around between them, <i>very</i> near Draco’s arse.  </p>
<p>Draco blinked rapidly, was it really the time? </p>
<p>But Harry pulled, and produced half a seatbelt. He nodded at Draco towards the space by Dimitri’s arse. </p>
<p>Ah. Draco eyed the lack of space there, warily. </p>
<p>And on closer inspection, Dimitri was fast asleep, snoring softly. So carefully as not to wake him, Draco tried to find the plastic box thing without totally feeling the man up. </p>
<p>It clicked into place. </p>
<p>‘Ready,’ Harry said to Dave. </p>
<p>And Dave nodded back at them in the rear-view mirror, shifting something to make the vehicle move. </p>
<p>They entered the main roadway, and buildings started to speed by. </p>
<p>Harry nestled his curly head into Draco’s neck. He tilted slightly upwards, and whispered, ‘Can I?’  </p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ he said back, softly.  </p>
<p>Somewhere about half-way to Draco’s hotel, Harry pressed his face into Draco’s shoulder, and he shook slightly. </p>
<p>Draco arranged his three glasses between his knees, and twisted around to hold Harry closer, closer to himself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'RRRRRRRRR—' </p>
<p>Draco woke with a start. </p>
<p>Fuck, he felt awful. He groaned and twisted around in the blanket onto his stomach. And that incessant sound wasn't helping his head any. Where was his wand? He'd Incendio the arsehole. </p>
<p>He blearily forced his eyes open and looked around, with his face half-smooshed into the pillow. Awful sunlight had found itself into the room—it wasn't right, nothing should be so bright.  </p>
<p>Ah yes, he was in his Ibizan hotel room. And the offending noise-maker was that sodding Muggle telephone again. </p>
<p>Without lifting his face off the pillow, Draco picked up the plastic head/mouth bit and brought it near his face, scowling. </p>
<p>'Draco?' </p>
<p>He grunted.  </p>
<p>'I imagine you're sick of me right now.' </p>
<p>Another grunt.  </p>
<p>'But … I come with a peace offering.' A pause. 'Food?' Draco buried his face deeper in the pillow. 'Can I come up?' </p>
<p>'Mmhmm.' </p>
<p>'Okay, I'm coming up now, answer your door, yeah?' </p>
<p>'Mm.' </p>
<p>'See you soon.'  </p>
<p>A click, and a dial tone obnoxiously rang in Draco's ear. He tossed the thing to the floor. </p>
<p>Fuck. He was going to have to open the door.  </p>
<p>Later.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>An incessant knocking woke him from a nice, light doze.<p>'Draco!' came muffled through the door. </p>
<p>Ah, bollocks. He'd forgotten about the door.  </p>
<p>He pulled himself up into a seated position, groaning, and rubbing his face. 'One moment, Potter,' he grumbled out, and then he forced himself onto his feet.  </p>
<p>He had a pounding headache. </p>
<p>The knocking continued as he shuffled over, making the pain worse. </p>
<p>'All right, all right,' he mumbled, pulling the door open to find a rather rumpled-looking Harry Potter with his fist posed to knock more. 'All right, already.' </p>
<p>'Sorry. It's been nearly ten minutes, though.' Harry looked down Draco's chest, and a complicated expression Draco was too groggy to interpret passed over his face, before his eyes darted back up. </p>
<p>'Mm.' Draco turned back around, and headed back to his bed, climbing back under the covers. </p>
<p>'Er,' Harry walked in with some hesitation, closing the door behind himself. He came closer to Draco’s bed, eyeing the telephone on the floor and stepping around it. 'It's half-eleven, did you know?' </p>
<p>Draco grunted. </p>
<p>'Well, ah, food.' </p>
<p>Food. Hmm. Yes. Draco rolled over in the bed to come face-up. </p>
<p>He opened his eyes and held out a hand. </p>
<p>Clearing his throat, Harry sat on the edge of the bed and opened up a paper sack. 'Here, I got you a sausage McMuffin. I know it's not the greatest, but it's greasy and—' </p>
<p>Draco wriggled his fingers. </p>
<p>'Right.'  </p>
<p>A warm paper package was dropped into Draco's hand. he brought it up to his mouth, and tore it open with his teeth. It smelled great. He took a big bite. </p>
<p>'I brought a tea for you, too,' Harry said slowly. </p>
<p>'Thanks,' he mumbled through the mouthful. Draco’s mother would be scandalised. </p>
<p>Fuck, his head felt <i>awful</i>. </p>
<p>'So, um, about last night. First of all, I need you tell you how sorry I am. You're on vacation, and you got sucked into my horrendous drama. I … I really didn't want you to see that.' </p>
<p>Oh, Merlin. Did Harry really have to speak <i>now</i>? </p>
<p>He glared half-heartedly at Harry, and reached his other hand out. 'Tea. Please.' </p>
<p>Harry looked stricken, then he shook his head at himself and produced the paper cup of tea. </p>
<p>'Thank you,' Draco grumbled, before taking a nice long sip. It helped. The food helped.  </p>
<p>Alcohol was <i>evil</i>, though.</p>
<p>Never again.</p>
<p>'So, yeah. As I was saying, I'm so sorry last night was such a disaster.' He sighed heavily. 'All around, really. From the shouting match with my ex-fiancé to, er, when I was dancing with you. I, um, well I think I was drunk and might've gone too far there.' </p>
<p>Oh, the dancing. That made Draco smile. Good thing they hadn’t snogged though, that would’ve been a catastrophe.  </p>
<p>He took another gulp of tea, then pushed himself up to sit properly against the backboard. </p>
<p>Ah. The blanket fell off his chest. He was shirtless. Hmm. He lifted the blanket up off his lap, and saw he was wearing yesterday pants. Well, at least he hadn't answered the door starkers.  </p>
<p>He wolfed the rest of his egg/sausage butty—or whatever it was Harry called it—down. 'Must we have a serious conversation right now?' </p>
<p>'No,' Harry said quickly, swiping a hand through his hair and looking off towards an empty brown chair across the room. </p>
<p>Draco frowned at him. Then he rubbed at his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding his tea. 'Fine.' </p>
<p>'Fine?' </p>
<p>'Harry,' he said carefully, arranging himself to sit up more comfortably. Harry looked back at him like he was expecting him to agree with all the bollocks he'd just been spouting. 'First of all—fuck off with all that. Second of all—last night was very fun. For the most part.' Harry just blinked at him. 'But I'm never drinking again.' </p>
<p>The left side of Harry's mouth lifted up, and then the right came up to join it. 'I don't know how you could've had a good time.'  </p>
<p>Draco took another sip of tea, and squinted at Harry. 'I liked your friends, I liked dancing, I liked telling off that arsehole. Oh Merlin, what was it I called him last night? Lord, I called him a "fucking fopdoodle".' A dry laugh burst out of himself—he was ridiculous. 'Salazar ...' </p>
<p>Harry blinked at him. 'I beg your pardon?' </p>
<p>'It's an old word meaning an insignificant or foolish person. But—' </p>
<p>'Hang on, when was this?' </p>
<p>'Oh, he came after me in the bathroom. Saw us dancing and had something to say about it.' </p>
<p>'Fuck.' Harry looked rather distressed about that. 'I'm so sorry.' </p>
<p>'It's fine, really. And stop apologising so much. It's far too early for that.' </p>
<p>'It's half-eleven,' Harry reminded him. </p>
<p>'Exactly.' He exhaled hard. 'Well, anyhow, it wasn't much. He just came at me, saying you belonged to him or some horseshite. I told him you were perfectly capable of deciding your partners for yourself. And that was that.' </p>
<p>'I … see.' </p>
<p>'I know it wasn't my place to say anything to him. But I got the feeling he deserved it?' </p>
<p>'Yeah.'  </p>
<p>Fuck, this was not the way to start a day. Harry looked quite troubled, just sitting with his elbows on his thighs, staring at that chair. And Draco was under the covers prattling on about how much he enjoyed telling Harry's ex off—wasn't altogether sensitive, was it? When clearly Harry was still hurting over the twat.  </p>
<p>'I hated seeing you upset,’ he admitted. ‘It broke my heart.' </p>
<p>Harry tore his eyes away from the chair to look at him, and Draco couldn't get a read on that expression.  </p>
<p>A slow, sad smile appeared on Harry's face.  </p>
<p>Draco didn't know what to say next, because this almost felt like another confession—and they'd moved passed that. So, he cleared his throat and changed the subject, 'Where are you taking me today?' </p>
<p>'You want me to take you somewhere?' </p>
<p>It hadn't even occurred to him that Harry might <i>not</i>. Was there a chance he wouldn't? 'Yes, I want you to. Did you have other plans?' </p>
<p>'No,' Harry said, looking down at his lap and smiling. 'All right. I'm thinking Formentera.' </p>
<p>'What's that?' </p>
<p>'Dress for the beach.' </p>
<p>He licked his lip. 'Yeah, all right. Can I shower first?'</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Formentera. The smallest of the Pityusic islands, and the most southerly.<p>It was beautiful. Pristine, white-sanded beaches. Clear turquoise waters.  </p>
<p>And the day was lovely—hot and bright. Perfect for swimming, and lounging around in the sand. Perfect for Draco's current energy level—he might even take a beach nap. </p>
<p>'Joni Mitchell wrote her album <i>Blue</i> here,' Harry remarked as he set a yellow polka-dotted towel down overtop the sand. He climbed onto it, stretching his legs out towards the water. 'And Bob Dylan lived in the lighthouse here for a time.' </p>
<p>'I see.' Draco followed suit with a towel Harry'd lent him—it had a giant smiling sun wearing sunglasses, and a rather cheerful rainbow. </p>
<p>'You're not familiar with either of them, are you?' </p>
<p>'Not in the least.' </p>
<p>Harry laughed under his breath. 'Ah well, perhaps one day.' He squinted out at the water, then unhooked the sunglasses from the lip of his t-shirt, exchanging them with the regular ones on his face. These were the mirrored kind, with gold wire rims. 'Just a fair warning—clothing is generally considered optional on this island, and some do take advantage of that.' </p>
<p>Draco moved to look around, then stopped himself. He didn't really want an eyeful of anyone's bare body at the moment. Far too hungover. 'Well … thank you for the warning.'   </p>
<p>Harry stretched out on his back, so Draco did the same. </p>
<p>'Sun protection spell?' Harry asked, turning his head towards him. </p>
<p>'Mm. Yes, please.' </p>
<p>Harry produced his wand from the beach bag, and pulled off his t-shirt—setting it inside the bag. He turned to Draco and said, 'Take off your shirt.' </p>
<p>Draco bit back a laugh, because he could make a stupid quip about those words. Instead, though, he did what Harry told him.  </p>
<p>Harry waved his wand above Draco's exposed skin, like he was conjuring an invisible sticky gel-like substance in the air. He then lowered his wand, and Draco felt it fall on him—clingy, but cooling. </p>
<p>'I'll do your back,' Harry said. </p>
<p>So Draco rolled over, and Harry repeated the movements. </p>
<p>'Thank you,' Draco said, stretching his legs out. </p>
<p>'Feels nice to do magic more often.' </p>
<p>'Mm,' Draco said, relaxing his head against his crossed arms. 'How often <i>do</i> you practice?' </p>
<p>Harry tucked his wand away in the beach bag. 'Oh, not a whole lot, really. Just some cleaning spells at home, maybe an Accio here and there when I'm tired.' </p>
<p>'Ah,' Draco acknowledged sleepily. The sun felt lovely on his back. </p>
<p>Harry became quiet, arranging himself on his back and folding his hands over his stomach, so Draco shut his eyes. </p>
<p>‘I always feel more cleared-headed near the water,’ Harry remarked after a few minutes had passed. </p>
<p>Draco opened his eyes—Harry seemed to be staring up at the slow-moving clouds. Draco buried his head more comfortably in his arms, and kept observing him. He hoped he was truly all right.  </p>
<p>'Have you ever been cheated on?' Harry asked, turning his head to face Draco. </p>
<p>'No.' He couldn't see Rodney doing that. He'd certainly be surprised if he had. 'Not that I know of.'  </p>
<p>'Have you ever cheated on someone?' </p>
<p>'No,' he said again. In another context, he might’ve gotten defensive, but Harry seemed genuinely curious. Draco wished he could see Harry's eyes behind those sunglasses, instead of Draco’s own face reflected back. 'That’s not what happened, is it?' </p>
<p>Sighing, Harry turned his head back to face up. 'Yes. I caught him in bed.' </p>
<p>Draco scrambled to sit up. He wasn’t expecting that answer, because he couldn’t imagine someone dating Harry Potter being that fucking stupid—'Fucking bastard. Fuck. Harry, I'm … shit.' He's sorry? Merlin, <i>what do you say?</i> </p>
<p>Harry smiled slightly. 'Yeah.' </p>
<p>'Fucking hell.' </p>
<p>'Do you want to hear the whole story?' </p>
<p>Perhaps he should've been even harsher to the twat yesterday. 'If you want to tell it.' </p>
<p>Harry stretched his arms out and back around his head. 'I met him at a club. He came right up to me and started dancing. I didn't really know many people yet. I'd just moved here, and I hadn't yet wandered into Dave's centre to look for a pamphlet.' </p>
<p>'What?' Draco said, not expecting to be so amused by that visual. 'Pause. Isn't his centre for youth?' </p>
<p>'Sure, but I didn't know the Catalan word for "youth" at the time. It's "joventut", by the way. I just saw the rainbow flag and went in.' </p>
<p>'You followed the rainbow,' Draco said, rather fondly.  </p>
<p>'Yes. I needed someone to help me with my gay crisis, and Dave was there for me, then.' </p>
<p>'Had the right pamphlet, did he?' Draco laughed under his breath. 'Anyway, I'm sorry I interrupted.' </p>
<p>'Right, yeah. Well ... before I got the pamphlet, I met Nils at a club next to the place I'd been staying at. I thought he was handsome, smooth, confident and … and I ended up back at his.' </p>
<p>'You shagged him?' </p>
<p>Harry let out a short laugh. 'Yeah. He had me top—apparently your first time is supposed to be on top. It's gay etiquette or something. Is that true?' </p>
<p>Draco laughed. He should really stop laughing—this was supposed to be a sad story. 'Merlin, Harry. I don't know. I suppose so.' Not like he was any expert. 'Well, how was it?' </p>
<p>'Really fucking good.' </p>
<p>Draco laughed again. 'Well okay. That's ... good?’ He leant back and held onto his crossed legs. ‘I never thought I'd be talking to Harry Potter about his gay sex life.' </p>
<p>Harry laughed too. 'And I never thought I'd ever be talking to Draco Malfoy about my gay sex life.' </p>
<p>Draco shook his head, smiling.  </p>
<p>'Anyway, I got the pamphlet from Dave, and the handful of condoms. And Nils called me, and we kept on.' Harry took a breath. 'I bought a house, and he soon sort of moved in.' </p>
<p>'Ah. “Sort of”?' </p>
<p>‘He’d pop back and forth between there and his flat. But he was at the house more often than not.’ </p>
<p>Harry turned his head to look at Draco, and—again—Draco wished he could see Harry's eyes. 'I'd never truly felt taken care of, until him, you know?' Harry sighed. 'Since I'd never had parents, not really, and I'd always felt like I had to be the responsible one in my relationships with women. But Nils made me feel I was safe, like if ever there was a problem he'd know how to solve it. He supported me, in all aspects. He helped me get my first gigs, he encouraged me, he was always there.' </p>
<p>Draco exhaled slow. 'That does sound wonderful,' he hated to admit, since the man was a villain. </p>
<p>'He asked me to marry him here.' </p>
<p>Draco looked around, seeing the island in a new, painful light.  </p>
<p>'He'd written "Evan, will you marry me?" in the sand.' </p>
<p>'You wanted to come here, even though …?' </p>
<p>'I'm taking it back,' Harry said, smiling at him. </p>
<p>'Good.' Draco couldn't imagine … </p>
<p>Harry took a deep breath. 'And then, on an unremarkable day, some plans fell through, so I stopped by his flat—I had a key. I was nearby and really needed a piss. And there he was, in bed with two tourists.' </p>
<p>'Shit, Harry …' Draco's heart ached. </p>
<p>'He said it was just sex, that he needs to "blow off steam" sometimes. And if I'm not around …' Harry cleared his throat. 'Well, he effectively admitted to it happening before. He tried very hard to convince me I was overreacting, that everyone sleeps around.' </p>
<p>'The bastard tried to gaslight you.' </p>
<p>'Yes.' </p>
<p>'Fuck, I'm so sorry,' he said, quite earnestly.  </p>
<p>Harry smiled, but it didn't have any joy in it. 'I think I'm just tired now. I was pretty broken up for a while, then I was angry, and now I … I just want to forget.' </p>
<p>Draco searched for the right thing to say, and all he came up with was, 'Want me to Obliviate you?' </p>
<p>'Would you?' Harry quirked the edge of his mouth up. </p>
<p>'No.' Draco smiled, and the smile faded slowly into a frown. 'You know it's not you, right?' </p>
<p>'No, I don't know.' </p>
<p>Draco licked at his bottom lip. 'Well I do.' He did. He didn’t have a single doubt. </p>
<p>'Hmm. Let's swim.' </p>
<p>Harry pulled himself up to his feet, and started off for the water—without waiting for Draco to follow. </p>
<p>Frowning slightly, Draco watched Harry's back. Then he scrambled up to follow suit, padding over the hot sand and into the cold sea.  </p>
<p>The water felt lovely, lapping at his ankles and cooling his skin off from lying in the sun for so long.  </p>
<p>Harry dove in up ahead, in deeper waters, going all the way under. Then he emerged a moment later, causing a huge splash. </p>
<p>Draco looked around, but no one was nearby watching them. </p>
<p>He stepped in more gingerly, taking his time. </p>
<p>And again, he found Harry floating on his back. </p>
<p>Harry turned his head when Draco reached him, and let his feet sink so he could stand upright. Smiling now (thank Merlin, Draco thought), Harry said, 'Tell me about your romantic past, then. I hope it's more cheerful than mine.' </p>
<p>Draco bit back a groan, and dipped down to fully cover himself up to his neck in cool water. 'Can't be too cheerful if I'm single, can it?' </p>
<p>'I … yeah, suppose that's true.' </p>
<p>Salazar. 'There was …' He winced. '<i>Rodney</i>.' </p>
<p>'Oh?' </p>
<p>Lord, was he really going to admit all this?  </p>
<p>Fuck. Fine.  </p>
<p>'He was a circus clown.' </p>
<p>Harry laughed. </p>
<p>'I'm serious.' </p>
<p>Harry let out a choke. 'God, really?' He cleared his throat, and probably realised he was being a bit rude. 'How on earth did that happen?' </p>
<p>'Well … went to the circus didn't I.' </p>
<p>'<i>Why</i>?' </p>
<p>Draco shrugged. 'Circuses can be …' He sighed. 'Oh who am I kidding. No, it is not my choice of entertainment. Pansy, on the other hand, was on a real Muggle-discovery kick. A <i>tour</i>, if you will. It was on her list, and … we went.' </p>
<p>'How'd you manage to even meet a clown?' </p>
<p>'Well … it was a bit dodgy of a circus, to be frank. Small and clumsy and a bit rough around the edges. It had heart, though, I give it that.' </p>
<p>Harry was just staring at him, bewildered. And yes, it was rather mental. </p>
<p>'So there wasn't much in the way of security, and Pansy thought it might be nice to have a talk with them. So we wandered around back, with me telling her I wanted to leave, as you can right imagine.' He puffed his cheeks. 'And Pansy chatted up an acrobat, then a few others meandered over. And … Rodney.' </p>
<p>Harry huffed a breath, amusement evident on his face. </p>
<p>'Yes, he'd taken his face make-up off at that point. So, er, we went out for a few drinks with the … <i>troupe</i>.' He grimaced, and Harry laughed. 'One thing led to another I suppose … And it lasted about a year.' </p>
<p>Harry came closer to Draco, and plopped both of his hands down on Draco's shoulders—and got a very serious look on his face. 'The real question here is …' </p>
<p>What? <i>Did he love him</i>? </p>
<p>Because no, not really. They didn't really mesh—something had always felt a bit off, a bit wrong. </p>
<p>'Did he shag you in the clown suit?' </p>
<p>Merlin's— </p>
<p>He spluttered, 'Harry <i>Potter</i>.' His face felt rather hot—that sodding tosser, just grinning back at him. Bloody torturing him, and <i>enjoying</i> it. 'Maybe <i>once</i>.' <i>Three times</i>, near the end of their relationship. Fucking hell, why couldn't he just lie and say "no"? </p>
<p>Harry choked out a delighted laugh, dropping his hands from Draco's shoulders to double over a bit. Then Harry froze, straightened up, and just … stared. And Draco could tell he was imagining it. </p>
<p>'Don't imagine it!' </p>
<p>Harry gave a quick shake to his head. 'Too late.' </p>
<p>'Salazar,' he grumbled, turning away from Harry to look out at the flat horizon—where the water meets the sky. </p>
<p>'Did you enjoy it?' Harry sounded genuinely curious. </p>
<p>Draco clamped his mouth shut, and watched a yacht slowly make its way in the distance. 'I'm not talking about clown sex with Harry Potter.' </p>
<p>'Do you have a clown kink now? Have you ever thought of me in a clown suit?' </p>
<p>All right. This all warranted a splash.  </p>
<p>He turned and smacked his hands against the surface, making a beautiful arc of spray in Harry's direction. </p>
<p>Harry got soaked—head and chest—and laughed. 'Tetchy, are we?' He half-heartedly reciprocated a little splash. </p>
<p>Draco splashed harder. </p>
<p>'Hey!' Harry said through a laugh. </p>
<p>Another splash. </p>
<p>'You're out of control,' Harry announced happily, as he pounced, pinning Draco's arms to his sides.  </p>
<p>Draco tried to wrestle out of Harry's death grip, but he was quite strong. Island life hadn't softened him, not in the least. </p>
<p>Fine. He gave up. </p>
<p>Harry sensed his submission, and loosened his grip.  </p>
<p>'I did it for him,' Draco admitted through gritted teeth, as he very much did not look at Harry. He didn't want him to think he preferred … Merlin ... not that there was anything inherently <i>wrong</i> with it, per se … just …  </p>
<p>'Well that's pretty kind of you.' Harry sounded almost impressed.  </p>
<p>'I will never do it again, if I can help it.' </p>
<p>Harry let him go, and smiled at him. 'Noted.' Cheeky bastard. Harry’s smile faded. ‘Thank you, Draco. For, ah, cheering me up.’ </p>
<p>He nodded slowly. ‘Anytime.’ At least, he hoped he could. He’d certainly try, whenever needed. 'And if you want to talk more ...'</p>
<p>Harry shook his head and looked off at the shore. 'I've talked plenty. It's just nice to ... well, talk about other things.' Harry’s smile returned. ‘I’m ready to go in. You can stay out here if you like.’ </p>
<p>‘All right.’ </p>
<p>He watched Harry gracefully glide into shore, swimming without kicking up a splash. When he got close enough to the sand, Harry stood, with water droplets dripping down his hair, neck, and back. </p>
<p>Draco lingered a moment, paddling around, looking up at the blue sky—with nary a cloud in sight. Just one wispy one making a slow path overhead.  </p>
<p>Time to go in, he thought.  </p>
<p>He swam in, and stood to walk when it became easier to.  </p>
<p>Draco spotted Harry, sat on his towel, with purple camera in hand, and a cheeky smile on his face. Draco shook his head, but he smiled—couldn't help it.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>After a long, lovely day at the beach, Harry drove Draco back to the hotel. They paused there—with Harry's hands still on the steering wheel.<p>He turned to Draco. 'You're probably tired, yeah?' </p>
<p>'Someone <i>did</i> wake me up earlier than I'd hoped,' he admitted, smiling. But he had napped a bit on his beach towel. 'I'm all right, though.' </p>
<p>Harry nodded. 'Want to hang out a bit more, then?' </p>
<p>'Yeah,' he said. He couldn't imagine saying no to more time with Harry. 'Yes. Anything in mind?' </p>
<p>Harry dropped his hands from the wheel, and pinched his mouth closed in thought. 'I don't know about you, but I think all the sun and swimming has, ah, got me in the mood to relax—just chill, you know? It feels like that sort of day.' </p>
<p>Draco hummed his agreement. He certainly wasn't in the mood for anymore drinking anytime soon, and dancing seemed like far too much work. 'Want to order room service, buy snacks at the vending machine, and watch a film or something?' </p>
<p>Harry slumped back in his seat in relief. '<i>Yes</i>.' </p>
<p>Laughing a little under his breath, Draco said, 'All right, you're invited.' </p>
<p>Harry flashed him a smile, and turned off the car. </p>
<p>They walked into the hotel, side by side. </p>
<p>'Mr Malfoy?' </p>
<p>Draco stopped, and turned to find the concierge holding a hand in the air. Frowning, Draco approached the desk, and Harry trailed after him. 'Yes?' </p>
<p>'You have an important message, sir.' He lifted a slip of paper from under the counter, and handed it over.</p>
<p>Draco scanned it quickly—it was from Morgan. He glanced up at the concierge, and said a quick, 'Thank you,' before heading off to the lifts.  </p>
<p>Once inside, Draco looked at it more carefully: </p>
<p><b>Draco, <br/>I hate to do this, but Stephenson is pushing the board meeting up to tomorrow. Something about his father's surgery and whatnot. <br/>I'm changing your Portkey to 10am. <br/>Call me when you get this. <br/>Sorry! <br/>Morgan</b> </p>
<p>Draco sighed. Well … it had to end sometime. He handed the note over to Harry, just as the lift doors opened up onto his floor. </p>
<p>'Oh,' Harry said, his one word devoid of emotion as they walked through the hallway over to his door.  </p>
<p>Draco unlocked it, saying, 'Yeah.' </p>
<p>Harry handed the note back as they entered. </p>
<p>With another sigh, Draco dropped the note onto his nightstand, and eyed the telephone. Morgan had left a very long string of numbers with the note.  </p>
<p>'Here,' Harry offered, picking up the talking part of the telephone. 'Probably need to dial 9 first to phone out.' Harry tilted the note to face himself, and pressed each number rather quickly and efficiently. He listened for a moment, and handed it over to Draco. </p>
<p>'Hello?' </p>
<p>'Morgan.'  </p>
<p>Harry wandered away from him, as Draco sat down hard onto the bed. </p>
<p>'Draco! Wonderful. You've got my note then?' </p>
<p>'I'm afraid so.' </p>
<p>'Right, sorry, but good. How's your trip been?' </p>
<p>Draco eyed Harry, who'd sat himself down in the brown chair and was currently feigning interest in the arm rests. 'Good.' </p>
<p>'Great! I hope you've got loads of photos.' </p>
<p>'I have.' </p>
<p>'Hmm, you seem a bit glum. I suppose it's because I've just cut your vacation short, hmm?' </p>
<p>He let out a short exhale. 'It's fine, I'm good. I'll see you tomorrow.' </p>
<p>'Mmhmm, okay. Enjoy your last night, then!' </p>
<p>'Thank you.' </p>
<p>They ended the call, and Draco turned to Harry, puffing out his cheeks. This was it, then, like Morgan said, <i>his last night</i>.  </p>
<p>Harry met his gaze, asking, 'Now that you're leaving tomorrow, are you sure you want to hang out here? Because we could, I don't know, go to dinner. Go out dancing again, or—' Harry scrunched up his face in thought. '—There are boat parties, where they take you out to watch the sunset. Or we could watch it from land, I suppose. Or just walk around the town at night, ah …' He looked like he was really thinking hard, trying to come up with more suggestions. </p>
<p>'No. I just want to put on comfy bottoms, sample the vending machine options, and watch a film. Unless you—' </p>
<p>'No, no,' Harry said. 'I want that too.' He smiled, looking relieved.  </p>
<p>And Draco smiled back. 'Good. It's settled, then.' He licked at his bottom lip and surveyed the room. 'Ah, I'm going to … change.' He badly wanted out of his swim trunks.  </p>
<p>'Sure.' </p>
<p>He eyed Harry in his own swim trunks, considering. 'Want to borrow a pair of joggers? I, ah, well I over-packed for this trip, so I've got extra and they're clean. And I can't imagine wanting to sit in swim trunks all evening.' Oh Merlin, he was rambling, wasn't he? </p>
<p>Harry smiled at him. 'Yes, please.' </p>
<p>Draco nodded, and got up to go fish around in his bag. </p>
<p>'Can I have a shirt, too?' </p>
<p>'Oh, yes, sure.' Draco pulled out a bunch of clean clothes, and handed over a set to Harry. He blinked for a moment. 'I'll just ... change in the bathroom, then.' Why was he suddenly awkward? What—because they were alone in what was technically a bedroom together? <i>Get it together, Draco</i>. </p>
<p>'All right.' </p>
<p>Draco changed in the bathroom, and splashed cold water on his face. When he returned, Harry had already dressed in Draco's clothes, and was sat in that brown chair still. He looked very comfortable, very at ease. </p>
<p>'Are you hungry?' Draco asked, lingering between the bathroom and his bed, not thinking too hard about how they’re similar sizes and definitely not daydreaming about how if they were in a sodding proper relationship they could <i>always</i> wear each other’s clothes. </p>
<p>'<i>Very</i>.' </p>
<p>'Mm. Let's order something.'  </p>
<p>Harry did the ordering over the telephone, since he considered himself such an expert. </p>
<p>It was a Sunday roast for Draco, and for Harry: the burger and chips. </p>
<p>After their meal and a quick trip to the vending machine for giant armfuls of snacks, Harry wandered over by the television and picked up the funny plastic thing with all the buttons, and turned the thing on—idly flicking through it. </p>
<p>Draco sat on the bed, just watching him. </p>
<p>This was a bit strange, wasn’t it? It’d all felt like a whirlwind. A lovely, very fun whirlwind, sure. But Harry was still hurting, and Draco didn’t know if there was anything more he should say on it. Or … or if it was better to keep quiet and let Harry bring it up, if he wanted. </p>
<p>But, all-too-soon Draco would be leaving. </p>
<p>Harry had friends here though: Dave, Ruben, Dimitri. The DJ bloke from the first night. Surely any of them would be better equipped to comfort Harry if he needed it. </p>
<p>It was settled, then. Draco wouldn’t prod. He’d just try to have a nice last evening with Harry, taking his cues from Harry. </p>
<p>He scooted forward on his bum to the end of the bed to get a closer look at what Harry was doing. The television had a lot of different stations—sporting events, to colourful cartoons, to old men droning on about something, all flashed over the screen. Muggles were bloody something, weren't they? Somehow making television happen—<i>without magic</i>—when wizards had only managed a wireless as far as passive entertainment went. And they all still relied on owls and letters rather than these efficient mobile devises all the Muggles seemed to have. </p>
<p>It did call to question: which culture really was the advanced one, yeah? </p>
<p>Made one think. </p>
<p>Harry turned and eyed him, so Draco was caught staring at the screen with unbridled interest. 'Have you watched television before? Or a movie?' </p>
<p>'Yeah, of course.' Granted, the question probably had been warranted, with the way he was staring at the television. He swallowed. 'Pansy took me to the pictures before.' </p>
<p>'The pictures,' Harry echoed under his breath, looking rather amused. He cleared his throat. 'What did you watch?' </p>
<p>'The Lord of the Rings. Have you seen it?' Harry nodded. 'It's absolutely <i>mad</i>, isn't it? Haven't a clue as to how they did it—the orcs, the elves, the bloody ...' Draco trailed off, considering Harry. 'Frodo was a bit like a shorter, paler <i>you</i>, wasn't he?’  </p>
<p>Harry's eyes had widened a bit, his eyebrows lifting up. He gave a little shake to his head and laughed. 'Not really, no.' </p>
<p>'No, right, completely different.' But internally he was wondering: was Samwise the Granger of the Weasley? Sauron was Voldemort, of course. Though a disembodied all-seeing eye was slightly more frightening. Slightly. </p>
<p>Harry snorted out a breath, and returned his focus on the television. 'Is there any sort of film you wouldn't like?'  </p>
<p>'I've no idea.' It wasn't as if he had much experience. </p>
<p>'Er, well … are there certain genres of fiction that you wouldn't read?' </p>
<p>Oh. That was a good question. 'I'm not one for horror, I suppose.' He'd lived through enough of that. </p>
<p>Harry twisted around to shoot him a smile. 'What about, like, adventure? Action?' </p>
<p>'Ah. Why am I not surprised the Gryffindor is asking me that?' Harry scoffed half-heartedly. Smiling, Draco admitted, 'Yeah, that all sounds good. I prefer it when someone else is doing the adventuring.' </p>
<p>'Me too, at times,' Harry said, smiling wryly. </p>
<p>So Harry eventually found something of interest to him, and moved the brown chair beside the bed so that it faced the screen. He reached over to grab a few snacks from the huge pile on the bed, and settled in. Draco draped himself across the bed, lying on his stomach, and opened up a packet of chocolate biscuits. </p>
<p>The film began. Evidently it was about tornados in America. Fascinating. </p>
<p>Harry did not look very comfortable—with his leg draped over the one armrest, and his head smooshed against the other. An arm was sticking out from under him at an angle, and hanging off the chair. He did not fit.  </p>
<p>'You can sit on the bed if you want,' Draco said, sitting up to make room and eyeing the whole vacant half. 'It's quite large.' </p>
<p>Harry tilted his head to look at him. He was ridiculous there, just stuffed into that chair. 'Yeah?' </p>
<p>'<i>Yes.</i>' </p>
<p>'Oh, all right.' He got himself untangled from the chair and walked around the bed to sit up against the backboard. </p>
<p>Okay, maybe it was a bit weird that they were in a hotel bed together. </p>
<p>Just concentrate on the film, Draco told himself.  </p>
<p>Storm chasers. What a ridiculous idea. Gryffindors, most likely, all of them. What other sort would willingly get close to something so deadly, simply for the thrill of it? </p>
<p>'Would you chase after a tornado?' Draco asked under his breath. Of course Harry and his people would. </p>
<p>Harry laughed. 'I don't know. Reckon it'd be cool to see one, don't you think?'  </p>
<p>Draco rolled his eyes. Point proven. 'No I do not.' </p>
<p>Harry snorted, and they kept watching. </p>
<p>Draco began to notice that Harry was sliding lower and lower, becoming more horizontal as the movie went on.  </p>
<p>And by the time of the climax of the film—when Bill and Jo were driving directly <i>into</i> the sodding tornado—Harry had his head on the pillow and was snoring softly.  </p>
<p>Draco shook his head at him, but found himself smiling. He carefully manoeuvred the glasses off Harry's face, since they were crooked and one of the ends had come off Harry's ear.  </p>
<p>He folded them, careful to not get fingerprints all over the glass, and set them on the night stand.  </p>
<p>Draco watched the rest of the film, feeling a bit warm in his chest. It was possibly on account of Harry sleeping there. Being <i>comfortable</i> with him enough to sleep there.  </p>
<p>The movie was over, with credits rolling. He quietly and gingerly climbed out of bed, so as not to wake Harry, and stepped over to the television. </p>
<p>It took a bit, but he eventually figured out that the big "power" button turned it all off. </p>
<p>Draco brushed his teeth and washed his face in the bathroom. When he came out, he eyed Harry there, still fast asleep. Peaceful—with mouth slightly open, and face relaxed. </p>
<p>Should he wake him? Tell him to go home? </p>
<p>Or let him sleep? </p>
<p>He'd … </p>
<p>He'd let him sleep. </p>
<p>Draco took a spare blanket out of the closet, and draped it over Harry, and then he climbed into bed, setting an alarm for 9am.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>An awful repeating "BEEP" (definitely capital letters) woke Draco.<p>Groaning, he rolled over, and smacked at whatever it was. </p>
<p>Eventually his hand hit the right spot, and the thing stopped. He cracked an eye open, and saw the digital clock reading "9:00" in obnoxious red font. </p>
<p>He had to leave today. </p>
<p>He had to leave in <i>one hour</i>. </p>
<p>He slumped onto his back, and hit something with his hand. </p>
<p>Turning, he saw Harry lying on his stomach there—edged onto Draco's side of the bed—and still fast asleep even after that awful alarm. His hair was in absolute disarray, and his lips parted. He looked exceptionally relaxed with face half covered by the pillow. </p>
<p>Draco deflated, and allowed himself to look, just for a moment. Because this was it—there weren't going to be other chances to see him. Draco was going home, and normal life would soon re-claim him.  </p>
<p>Sighing softly to himself, he climbed out the bed. He needed to get ready, and make sure all of his things were packed, after all.  </p>
<p>After he was done in the bathroom, he heard Harry stir. </p>
<p>Blearily, a soft and sleep-rumpled Harry lifted up and squinted at him. Those black curls had a definite left-lean.  </p>
<p>'Morning,' Draco said, trying to keep from smiling at the sight of him. He crouched down to pack his spare shoes into his bag. </p>
<p>'Morning,' Harry answered, rubbing at his face. 'I hadn't intended to sleep with you.' </p>
<p>Draco laughed at that. Merlin. 'Well … how was it?' </p>
<p>Harry smiled at him. 'Very nice. It's a comfy bed, huh?' </p>
<p>'It is.' </p>
<p>'You should stay here again, next time you come.' Harry looked around the room. 'Good food, decent room size. Fish tank in the lobby.' </p>
<p>Draco snorted, but Harry's implication didn't escape him.  </p>
<p>What—come back once a year in the summer for another few days of inserting himself into Harry's life? </p>
<p>And what would that help … he'd only end up missing Harry too much. He'd only ensure he was pining for him the rest of his life, if he kept at this. </p>
<p>Draco breathed out in a heavy puff, and chanced a glance at Harry again. Harry had swung his legs off the bed, and was frowning towards Draco's window. Draco wondered if he was thinking the same as him—that this wasn’t going to happen again. That this was goodbye. </p>
<p>'I'll have to check out soon,' Draco said, regrettably. He wished they'd been a bit earlier so they could’ve gotten breakfast together again.  </p>
<p>Harry nodded slowly, still looking at the window. 'I'll see you off.' </p>
<p>Draco opened his mouth to say something. “Thank you”, perhaps? But … but the moment passed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading ! ❤️</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">(The movie they watched together was Twister)</span>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'Well, Harry, this has been ...' He exhaled, searching for the right word. Maybe there wasn't a right word.  </p>
<p>Harry smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He seemed a bit … well, sad. </p>
<p>'<i>Really</i> nice,' Draco finished. He opened his mouth to say more, to talk of how lovely it'd been to get to know Harry better, to see the island he called home, but he stopped himself. Instead, it was probably enough to say <i>thank you</i>. 'Thank you, for showing me around, for being such a great host.' Draco suppressed a wince—it all sounded so formal. The truth was … the truth was he didn't want to leave ... But that wouldn't be helpful to either of them. </p>
<p>'Thank you for coming.' </p>
<p>Draco choked out a laugh, despite the miserable feeling that was beginning to churn up inside him. 'You say that like you invited me.' </p>
<p>Harry shrugged, still smiling a little. 'Come back anytime. That's an open invitation.' </p>
<p>'Well,' Draco said, extending a hand for a handshake, 'thank you.' </p>
<p>Harry ignored the hand altogether, pulling Draco in for a hug. It was one of those all-encompassing hugs. Warm. Solid. And it nearly knocked the wind out of Draco. </p>
<p>'Thank you for being a friend,' Harry said into Draco's shoulder. 'Next time I wouldn't cry on you, I promise.' </p>
<p>Draco laughed under his breath, and squeezed Harry tighter. 'Cry on me ... anytime.' </p>
<p>These “anytimes”, these “nexts” ... It was all just saying what you have to say, in order to make a goodbye easier, wasn’t it? </p>
<p>Harry held onto him for a long moment. Draco was starting to feel concerned that Harry <i>was</i> crying on him.  </p>
<p>But when Harry pulled back, gripping onto Draco's upper arms, he had a soft smile on his face. 'Is it almost time?'  </p>
<p>Draco nodded. 'Another minute.' </p>
<p>Harry sucked in a breath, and his hands dropped from Draco’s arms. 'Okay. I'll ... yeah. Well, I'll send you the photos by email? Or on Facebook?' </p>
<p>'Oh. Don't have either—don't think I’ll ever be able to figure out that stuff,' Draco said truthfully. Harry deflated, looking disappointed. 'Ah, but Pansy ...' </p>
<p>Harry nodded. His eyes seemed so big, so green in this light. 'Yeah, I can send them to you through her.' </p>
<p>Draco didn't know what else to say, and he realised he was staring. 'Right. Good.' He tore his eyes from Harry's face, and fished around for his Portkey in his bag. 'I think it was a ceramic spoon. Merlin, why are they always the most obscure objects?' Draco muttered, not really expecting an answer. His fingers caught on the edge of the handle. </p>
<p>Harry took a step forward. His mouth was slightly open, but he wasn't saying anything. Draco could see the smallest hint of pink tongue there.  </p>
<p>'Well, won't be long now.' </p>
<p>A complicated look twisted over Harry's face, there was a line between his eyebrows. It was a look Draco didn't know how to interpret in this context. </p>
<p>'Goodbye, Harry,' Draco said, trying to smile. </p>
<p>'Listen—' </p>
<p>Hook-in-the-gut, the awful sense of being pulled and stretched through a narrow tube.  </p>
<p>And ... London. </p>
<p>London. </p>
<p>More specifically: the narrow alleyway behind his flat. </p>
<p>He took a breath to re-orient himself, squeezing his eyes closed. </p>
<p>A horn honked. </p>
<p>Someone was shouting something, and cars were whizzing down the road nearby. </p>
<p>Okay. </p>
<p>He was back. </p>
<p>And he had a meeting to attend in a little while. </p>
<p>With one more deep breath, Draco got moving. He wrapped around the side of the building, past the over-flowing bins and up towards the entranceway.  </p>
<p>He took a moment to squint up at the sky—overcast, dull.  </p>
<p>No more sunshine for him anytime soon. </p>
<p>Well ... it was nice while it lasted. </p>
<p>He pulled the door open, and started a slow march up the stairs to his floor. </p>
<p>Draco pushed the key into the keyhole and turned. It clicked and the door swung open to reveal his flat—just as it always was. His shoes were exactly where he'd left them on the mat, his coats on their hooks. He took a step inside, and shut the door softly behind himself.  </p>
<p>He toed off his shoes and set his travel bag down on the floor with a soft thump.  </p>
<p>Draco looked around the living room. Sofa, table, and wireless were all in their proper places. He still had papers from work strewn about the table, along with an empty mug he’d forgotten to wash before he left.  </p>
<p>He just stood there, and the silence enveloped him like a blanket. Everything so still. </p>
<p>Right. He was … home. </p>
<p>Draco stepped further into his living room, and slumped down onto his sofa, as he pressed palms into his face. </p>
<p>A crack of thunder boomed from the distance, making him jump. </p>
<p>He swiped his hands down into his lap, and twisted round to look out the window. Dark grey clouds billowed on the horizon. </p>
<p>Bloody apt, wasn't it? </p>
<p>Well. He'd better get ready.  </p>
<p>Draco pulled himself to his feet, and stalked over to the bathroom for a quick shower. </p>
<p>After towelling off, he frowned at his closet. Board meeting. Suits. Discussions of projections, performance, sodding <i>strategy</i>. </p>
<p>In other words: Draco's real life.  </p>
<p>He pulled on a soft grey button-down—buttoning carefully. Then: black pressed trousers and black leather belt. He eyed his rack of ties, smoothing his fingertips over them and watching how they swayed. He snatched a charcoal one, and swung it around the back of his neck, stepping into view of the mirror on the back of his closet door.  </p>
<p>So. Draco had gotten a bit of sun—a few freckles seemed darker on his nose. Sighing, he tugged the tie into place, wrapping it around and up and through. Then a pull to adjust.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Morgan caught his eye as Draco entered the board room and took a seat. She smiled slightly, and he nodded back.<p>She'd changed her hair again. No longer bright green and styled up like fire. Now, it was white, and smoothed back. It was elegant this way, but he had rather liked the cheerful green better.  </p>
<p>'Good morning,' he said, running a hand over his tie to smooth it, as he surveyed the board members. He did his best to smile. ‘Shall we begin?’ </p>
<p>And after an exceptionally dull meeting, in which they determined that the organisation was doing well, Draco wandered into his office and sank down into his chair. </p>
<p>The sodding brand new computer sat in front of him, taking up so much space—blocking his normal view. He used to see his staff through the glass walls, now he saw a glossy black screen that reflected back his dark, broody expression. </p>
<p>Sighing, Draco buried his face in his hands, and took a breath. </p>
<p>A rap on his door startled him. </p>
<p>He looked up to find Morgan looking down at him with an uncharacteristic fondness. Normally she was a bit exasperated with him. </p>
<p>Shutting the door softly behind herself, she entered and sunk into the chair across from his desk.  </p>
<p>'I like your hair,' he said. </p>
<p>She smiled. 'How was your trip?' </p>
<p>'Good.' </p>
<p>'That's all?' </p>
<p>'I don't know.' He ran his fingers over the plastic keys in front of him, avoiding Morgan's eye. Not because he was emotional or anything, but … well, he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it much. 'It was enjoyable. They have very nice beaches.' He eyed her, to check if she were going to drop it. </p>
<p>Morgan quirked an eyebrow. 'Forgive me, but you don't really strike me as someone who travels to see beaches?' </p>
<p>He shrugged. 'I am quite particular about beaches. A connoisseur, if you will.' </p>
<p>Leaning back, she scrutinised him. 'Something happened.' </p>
<p>'No.' </p>
<p>'You've got this whole,' she paused to wave her hand in the direction of his face, 'my husband is lost at sea look.' </p>
<p>Draco scoffed. 'I do not.' Did he? 'Don't you have computers to tend to or something?' </p>
<p>She smiled. 'Speaking of, I've signed you up for the class. The first one is tomorrow at half-two.' </p>
<p>'Wonderful,' he said through a sigh. </p>
<p>'In the meantime, I think you should go home. Sleep off the jet lag.' </p>
<p>He blinked at her. 'I did not take an aeroplane, and the time difference was an hour.' </p>
<p>'Sleep off the jet lag,' she repeated, with a smile and a sharp rap of her knuckle against his desk. </p>
<p>Exhaling heavily, he bit back a sharp retort, because … he didn't really want be there, did he? 'Fine.' </p>
<p>Morgan rose to her feet, and spun to the door. She shot him one last cheerful smile, and said, 'Enjoy your class tomorrow,' before leaving his office. </p>
<p>With a groan, he pulled himself up, and decided he'd walk home. He could use the air. </p>
<p>And on the way home, he stopped in at the shop for a few packs of Ambrosia chocolate custard. He was going to lie on his sofa in his pants and eat pots of custard as the wireless read a story to him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Pansy Floo-called later that evening.<p>'Come over!' she demanded; her excitement palpable. </p>
<p>‘I’m not sure I …' he trailed off. </p>
<p>She frowned at him, and gave his head and shoulders a once-over. ‘Draco, are you wearing anything?’ </p>
<p>‘Pants.’ </p>
<p>‘Oh Merlin. You aren’t brooding, are you? How much custard did you eat today?’ </p>
<p>‘A bit.’ He did not look behind himself at the empty pots strewn about the floor. Yes, he was pathetic. </p>
<p>Pansy shot him an exasperatedly fond look. ‘Oh darling, come over.’ </p>
<p>‘All right.’ </p>
<p>‘Put on some clothes first.’</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>'<i>Well,</i> how was it?' Pansy asked, with an expectant smile, as she lay a plate of biscuits between them and sank into the chair beside Draco. They were in her backyard, and the weather was rather nice by British standards, with a light evening breeze and a few stars peeking out between the clouds.<p>Draco inhaled a breath. 'Good.' </p>
<p>She groaned. ‘<i>Details</i>, Draco. You saw him, didn’t you?’ </p>
<p>'All right, yeah, I did. And it was lovely. Harry is ...' He licked at his bottom lip.  </p>
<p>Pansy nudged him. '<i>Harry</i>, hmm? Tell me everything.' </p>
<p>So, he did. Or tried to. And once he'd finished his retelling, he decided that was it. He was done with Ibiza, and its beautiful beaches, and he was done with bright green eyes, sun-kissed bronze skin, and sipping cold tea drinks from a plastic straw. It was back to reality now. Harry Potter had his life, in Ibiza, and Draco had his, in London. It didn't do to dwell on an impossibility. </p>
<p>'So, do you think he likes you?' Pansy asked, digging her black-manicured fingernails into the pile of biscuits, searching for the kind she wanted. 'Like, romantically?' She found the one, and popped it into her mouth, crunching loudly. </p>
<p>Draco huffed a short laugh. 'No, I do not think he's interested in me. Harry very clearly told me that he's not looking for a relationship right now. He'd just gone through a terrible break-up and I imagine it'll be a while before he's ready to date anyone again.' </p>
<p>Pansy frowned, leaning her head back in the chair and fixing him with a scrutinizing stare. 'I hoped the whole scheme would be more romantic.' </p>
<p>He laughed again. 'This isn't one of your romance novels, Pans.' </p>
<p>'You were supposed to show up and sweep him off his feet. Enemies to lovers in a matter of <i>hours</i>. You were <i>supposed</i> to spend the whole time in bed.' </p>
<p>'Salazar.' Draco shook his head, and swiped a palm over his face. 'Just forget about it. Life seldom turns out how one would wish. We became … friends, and only friends.' </p>
<p>Pansy sighed. 'Fine.' </p>
<p>'Oh, and he might send you a message for me on the laptop. So ... don't be embarrassing.' </p>
<p>She perked up quite visibly in her chair, and in an instance her mood seemed improved. 'Really?' </p>
<p>'Yes.' He fixed her with a stern look, and repeated, 'Don't be embarrassing.' </p>
<p>Pansy merely grinned.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>At half-two the next day, Draco found himself as the youngest and best-dressed person in a grey and dusty room full of senior citizens. Why on earth had he thought a suit was appropriate attire?<p>A middle-aged South Asian woman with a black bob and a blue pantsuit stood behind a large desk at one end of the room—the instructor presumably. She eyed him with thinly-veiled surprise. 'This is a beginner's class, for computers,' she said. </p>
<p>Draco nodded. 'Yes. That's right.'  </p>
<p>She blinked at him a beat. 'Have a seat,' she said, gesturing towards a section of vacant computer stations.  </p>
<p>Draco did as she asked, sinking into a hard-back plastic chair. He looked around, and caught the eye of a white-haired elderly woman in the next row over. He smiled at her, she smiled back.  </p>
<p>'Welcome everyone,' the instructor started. 'My name is Angelpreet, and I'm happy to teach you all computer skills for the next ten weeks.' <i>Ten weeks?</i> Morgan hadn't told Draco it'd be <i>that</i> bloody long. 'Let's do a round of introductions, shall we? Names, and what you're hoping to get out of this class.' She gestured towards one end of the class for them to start.  </p>
<p>Draco bit back a groan. This was going to be awful. </p>
<p>'Hello,' said a grey-haired dark-skinned man, nodding around the room. 'I'm Bert, and I'm taking this class so I can learn to use the Facebook. My daughter Sara is pregnant with her first, and I'd like to be able to see all the photographs once the baby comes.' </p>
<p>'Ah, that's lovely Bert. We'll definitely have that covered.' said Angelpreet. She turned to the next person and gestured with a hand. 'And yourself?'  </p>
<p>It took a long while to get around to Draco. </p>
<p>He took a breath, puffing out his cheeks. 'Hello everyone. I'm Draco,' he shot a smile at a couple people who caught his eye. 'I'm here because my work's gone paperless, so I'm told I need to learn computers if I'm to do a decent job moving forward.' </p>
<p>The woman a few stations over nodded solemnly. 'My workplace was just starting to go digital as I was retiring. Couldn't make a lick of sense of it at the time. What's wrong with paper, I say.' </p>
<p>'Exactly what I said,' Draco said, laughing.  </p>
<p>She smiled at him. 'We've only been using it a few thousand years.' She rolled her eyes in a friendly, mocking way. </p>
<p>'Too right!' said Bert. 'Nothing wrong with a bit of paper.' </p>
<p>These were Draco’s people, he thought warmly. Who knew it’d be Muggle senior citizens? </p>
<p>Angelpreet clapped her hands together. 'Yes, well. We'll find there are many benefits to the computer age. Instant communication for one, photographs of grandkids for another,' she said, eyeing Bert pointedly with a warm smile. 'And not to mention the environmental aspect.' </p>
<p>Draco wanted to butt in and argue, to say that surely the amount of discarded technology in garbage dumps was far worse than biodegradable paper, but he bit it back. One must choose one's battles. And he was there to learn from Angelpreet, after all.  </p>
<p>'Now, who knows how to turn on a computer?' asked Angelpreet. </p>
<p>Most people raised their hands.  </p>
<p>Draco frowned at the big plastic box in front of him. He … did not. </p>
<p>'Perfect. Press your "on" switches now. For everyone else, the button has the following symbol.' Angelpreet drew a line and most of a circle on the chalkboard behind her desk. 'They may be on different areas of your computer, depending on the make and model you are using. But our computers here have them on the top of the computer console. Press them now, and if you're having any trouble, please raise your hand and I'll be right 'round.' </p>
<p>Draco scanned the whole ridiculous plastic thing until he found the funny symbol. He suppressed a sigh. This was not going to be easy.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>A few days later, a Floo-call interrupted Draco's evening solo dance routine in his living room. He swiped a hand through his sweaty hair, and knelt down by the hearth.<p>Pansy's fiery head greeted him with a huge smile. 'Draco!' </p>
<p>Suppressing a heavy exhale, he asked, 'Yes?' He waited for her to tell him something horrible—like she'd invited Harry Potter to marry him, or something similar. </p>
<p>'I've received your vacation photos.' She put a hand over her mouth, and her eyes seemed to sparkle, even in the flames. 'They are so bloody precious.' </p>
<p>He tried to ignore the pangs in his chest, and settled for half-heartedly narrowing his eyes.  </p>
<p>'You two are so fucking cute.' </p>
<p>'All right. Was that all?' He wanted to dance until he absolutely exhausted himself. </p>
<p>Pansy paused to scrutinise him, and frowned. 'Don't you want to see them as soon as possible? Draco, are you still brooding? How much custard are you eating?' </p>
<p>Not really, not really brooding. He was … trying to move on. Trying to return to normal, to regain an equilibrium. </p>
<p>‘I’m fine!’ he insisted. </p>
<p>'Oh come over here already, won't you?' </p>
<p>'Yeah, all right.'  </p>
<p>He Floo-ed over, and they settled into the sun room chairs in front of the laptop. Pansy placed one hand over her heart, and clicked. </p>
<p>Draco sucked in a breath.  </p>
<p>There Draco was, looking a bit startled with his Ibizan breakfast. Then a nicely framed shot of his breakfast, and, next … Harry smiling with <i>his</i> breakfast. </p>
<p>Draco sighed, and Pansy smacked his arm lightly. 'Don't sigh.' </p>
<p>She clicked through the photos of Dalt Vila, to the photo of Draco looking scandalised with the wood cock bottle opener inserted in his hand.  </p>
<p>Pansy snorted at that one. 'You guys are fucking adorable.' </p>
<p>Next was a photo of their faces in front of the boats at the harbour.  </p>
<p>'We need a print of that one,' she said, holding a hand to her heart and smiling at him. </p>
<p>It was nice … but no, not going to happen. Just imagine … him with a photo of Harry Potter—what, on his mantle? He didn't even have a photo of Pansy on his mantle.  </p>
<p>She clicked through to a series of photos featuring Draco, Harry, and Harry's three friends drinking at that bar—smiling and laughing and beginning to look rather rowdy. Draco couldn't remember any photos being taken. But there he was, leaning in and talking animatedly to Dave. </p>
<p>'And who's this?' Pansy asked. </p>
<p>'Harry's mate. Dave.' </p>
<p>She nodded slowly, and mused, 'Rather fit, isn't he?' </p>
<p>Draco chose not to comment.  </p>
<p>There weren't any photographs of the nightclub. And that was probably for the best, considering all the trouble that night'd been. </p>
<p>Next was Formentera … shots of the two of them sprawled out on the beach, with sunglasses. There was one with the two of them together—heads pressed together and smiling.  </p>
<p>'Draco …' Pansy said. </p>
<p>But he had nothing to say.  </p>
<p>Another showed Draco walking out of the water—with sharp sunlight glistening on the sea, glistening on the beads dripping down his chest. His hair wet and slicked to one side.  </p>
<p>'You look gorgeous,' Pansy said, leaning in to stare at the screen. </p>
<p>He sighed again. </p>
<p>'Oh stop that.' </p>
<p>And, lastly, there was Draco curled up and comfortable on the hotel bed with their mountain of snacks in front of him. </p>
<p>Pansy put a hand on Draco's shoulder, and looked at him fondly. 'Seems you had a really lovely time.' </p>
<p>'Yes.' Yeah, he agreed.  </p>
<p>Pansy pulled him in for a hug. 'You miss him.' </p>
<p>'It'd be pathetic to miss him.' </p>
<p>She patted at his back. 'Oh Draco. Nothing wrong with being a bit pathetic, sometimes.'</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Weeks passed, and it was getting a little easier to miss Harry Potter.<p>Draco still danced when he could. He found it an enjoyable way to let off steam.  </p>
<p>A Friday evening Floo-call surprised Draco, right in the middle of one of such solo dance sessions. He shut off the Wireless and sat cross-legged in front of the hearth. </p>
<p>It was Morgan, with her head in the flames. 'Draco, so sorry. I know it's Friday evening—' </p>
<p>'It's all right,' he interrupted. 'What's the matter?' </p>
<p>'Ergh, just a signature missing. I can't believe I missed it, and the report was due at <i>six</i>—' </p>
<p>'It's fine, these things happen. Come on through.' </p>
<p>'Thank you,' she said in a breath, sounding relieved.  </p>
<p>Her head disappeared from the fire, and then, the fire went emerald green and whole of her popped out of it. </p>
<p>'I've just been so bloody stressed with the gallery showing, you know? It's not something we've ever done before. And Lorna is just …' She trailed off in order finish off her point with a loud groan. </p>
<p>Draco laughed. 'I know. And you're doing great.' </p>
<p>She sagged in relief, before seemingly noticing him properly. She gave him a once-over with a puzzled expression. 'Oh, you look rather sweaty, don't you?' She looked around the living room, and noticed the furniture shoved all off to the side. 'What's happening here?' </p>
<p>Draco exhaled slow. 'Just a bit of exercise.' </p>
<p>She raised an eyebrow. 'In your work trousers and a button-down?' </p>
<p>'No. Well, yes. All right, if you must know, I've taken to dancing.' </p>
<p>'Dancing?'  </p>
<p>'Yes. It's not weird.' </p>
<p>Morgan laughed. 'Little weird. But cute.' </p>
<p>It was his turn to raise an unamused eyebrow. 'The form?' </p>
<p>She ignored his raised eyebrow, and produced the form in question. Draco grabbed it from her, and brought it over to the table he'd shoved up against the wall.  </p>
<p>Morgan handed him a biro from her pocket, and he added his signature to the page.  </p>
<p>'Perfect, thanks. I'll just send it off to the Department, then.' She went back to the fireplace, and Floo-ed the form over to the Department of Arts and Culture. 'Now then, what's with this dancing alone in your living room thing?' </p>
<p>He shrugged. 'Just a bit of fun. Good way to unwind after a work day.' </p>
<p>'Mmhmm, mmhmm. The only thing is, most people make that a social thing, you know. Like drinks with friends and a club.' </p>
<p>'Sure, some do.' </p>
<p>'Huh.' Morgan bit at her lip, and scrunched her brow. 'I never knew you liked dancing.' </p>
<p>'It's … a more recent development.' </p>
<p>'If I'd known, I would've invited you along months ago.' </p>
<p>He quirked an eyebrow. 'What are you on about?' </p>
<p>'Ah, just me and the girls go out for drinks and dancing every Friday night.' </p>
<p>'The girls?' </p>
<p>'Sure, Beth, Nancy and June.'  </p>
<p>Ah. His employees—two clerks and an admin assistant. 'That's fine. I'm sure they wouldn't like to hang out with their boss on the weekend anyway. This is their time off.' </p>
<p>Morgan waved that off. 'Nah, you're not a normal boss, now are you? Come out with us.' </p>
<p>He didn't know whether or not to be offended by that. 'In what way am I not "normal"?' </p>
<p>'Well you know, you're friendly. You're shit at everything Muggle and mostly helpless with computers and the like. But you're the heart of the company, aren't you? It wouldn't be what it is without you, we wouldn't help the people we help without you.' </p>
<p>Oh. Well, that was rather … kind. 'I … see. Er, well, thank you.' </p>
<p>'Honestly, come out with us. Drinks, dancing. We meet up at nine.' </p>
<p>'Ah …' Admittedly, it could be fun to get out and dance again, like he had in Ibiza with those French girls. 'Yeah, all right. If you're certain the others wouldn't mind.' </p>
<p>'Of course not. And think of it as team-building.' </p>
<p>He huffed a laugh. 'Yeah, fine. Good.'</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>So at nine, after having showered and changed into something more club-appropriate (dark jeans and a black button-up), Draco Disapparated to the meeting place.<p>Morgan, Beth, Nancy, and June all smiled at him.  </p>
<p>'Well, hello all,' he looked from face to face, still uncertain. 'You all look lovely.' And they did—dressed in form-fitting short dresses, high heels, hair glossy and straightened, make-up done to the nines. 'Thank you all for letting me join you, that is … assuming Morgan even told you at all.' </p>
<p>Morgan laughed. 'I did!' </p>
<p>'Right. Good. Well, please don't laugh at me too hard for my dancing ability, or lack thereof.' </p>
<p>The girls laughed. </p>
<p>'No promises,' said Beth, smiling. </p>
<p>He sighed. 'Thought as much.' But he smiled back anyhow.  </p>
<p>The five of them walked down the street and entered a queue for the club. </p>
<p>'What sort of music might we be listening to?' Draco asked. </p>
<p>'The Muggle sort,' said June. 'Pop and dance and the like.' </p>
<p>'Perfect.' </p>
<p>The girls laughed again. Draco was beginning to think he was shattering all of their images of him. Probably detrimentally. </p>
<p>Once inside, Draco was transported back to Ibiza in an instance. It was terribly dark, and crowded, with neon lights flashing in many directions. So similar to the club Harry'd played at.  </p>
<p>'First thing's first,' announced Nancy over the pumping music. 'Shots!' </p>
<p>They all went straddled up to the bar, and blue shots were produced.  </p>
<p>Draco knocked one back. 'This seems like a dangerous idea,' he had to shout towards Morgan. </p>
<p>She laughed. 'Just embrace the team-building exercise!' </p>
<p>Oh Merlin. Sure. </p>
<p>'Another round!' called Nancy to the bartender, with her finger raised.  </p>
<p>Oh Merlin, indeed. </p>
<p>A good bit of music was playing—something with a beat. He started to sway a little. </p>
<p>After one more normal-sized fruity drink, and a round of office gossip about Jerry and Tim in accounting, a buzz was starting to brew within Draco. He wasn't too worried about what his employees thought about him anymore. He began swaying to the music, just stood at the bar. </p>
<p>Morgan laughed. 'Come on, I think you're ready to dance.' </p>
<p>She pulled him towards the dancefloor, where so many bodies were grinding and dancing along. June, Beth and Nancy trailed after them. </p>
<p>Oh! He recognised this song—it was Britney Spears, "...Baby One More Time." (He’d bought the album.) </p>
<p>He thought back to when Harry'd said that he was a bit upset with Britney, and he'd never got the reason why. </p>
<p>Draco leaned in towards Morgan. 'Hey, what's the thing about Britney Spears anyhow?' </p>
<p>She laughed. 'What on earth do you mean?' </p>
<p>'Why might someone be cross with her?' </p>
<p>Morgan threw her head back in a bewildered type of expression, and seemed to think on it. She shrugged, and twisted her mouth to the side. 'Well … Britney Spears cheated on Justin Timberlake apparently, that's why they broke up.' </p>
<p>Ah. That was it. He nodded at Morgan as if that'd solved a huge riddle. 'Right. That makes sense.' </p>
<p>'That's what you needed to know?' </p>
<p>'Yes,' he said, quite seriously. </p>
<p>Morgan laughed again, shaking her head. 'You're a bit weird, Draco. Come on, let's dance.' </p>
<p>The five of them arranged themselves in a circle, and Draco surrendered to the music.  </p>
<p>'My loneliness is killing me ... I must confess, I still believe …' Draco mouthed along, squeezing his eyes shut. 'When I'm not with you, I lose my mind … give me a si-i-i-ign.' </p>
<p>Oh Merlin. This song perfectly described his feelings about Harry in the moment. Harry! </p>
<p>'Hit me baby one more time!' he sang along, really emoting the words. </p>
<p>Draco opened his eyes, and saw his employees staring at him with matching looks of amused delight. He nodded. 'Britney,' he said, in way of explanation. </p>
<p>They laughed, June did a little shrug, and they all resumed dancing. </p>
<p>So, Draco did too. He might've gotten a little drunk.  </p>
<p>Britney was great. So she made a mistake … that didn't mean she didn't deserve Harry's forgiveness. </p>
<p>Everyone needed a little forgiveness. Second chances.  </p>
<p>He'd certainly received his fair share. He could've been sent to Azkaban after the war, after all, instead of probation and community service.  </p>
<p><i>Oh pretty baby, I shouldn't have let you go.</i> </p>
<p>Britney's brilliant.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>At the end of the night, tired, still rather drunk, and sticky from sweating all night, they found themselves down the road at a flourescently-lit shawarma place. They had sat themselves at a round table in cold metal chairs that felt rather nice on the back of Draco's arms below his rolled-up sleeves.<p>'This is so good,' Draco said with mouth full. </p>
<p>'I know, right?' June said, grasping her shawarma in both hands and gazing at it lovingly. </p>
<p>Morgan knocked shoulders into him. 'So, who was this island bloke you met?' </p>
<p>Draco frowned, and exhaled a deep sigh. 'Harry Potter.' </p>
<p>The women sat up straighter.  </p>
<p>'<i>What</i>?' asked Morgan. </p>
<p>'I know …' His heart gave a sudden jolt. 'Wait, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone.' If people found out where Harry was … <i>Fuck</i>. He'd have betrayed Harry in the biggest way. </p>
<p>'Oh,' said Morgan, blinking rapidly. She looked around at the others. 'We won't tell anyone, yeah?' </p>
<p>Wide-eyed, the rest of them nodded. </p>
<p>He exhaled. 'My very happiness depends on your silence.' </p>
<p>Morgan barked out a laugh, then covered her mouth. 'Really? <i>Really though</i>?' </p>
<p>He nodded sadly.  </p>
<p>His employees exchanged a wide-eyed, dreamy look.  </p>
<p>'Wow,' Morgan said. 'Tonight has been most … illuminating.'</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Draco showed up at work Monday thoroughly embarrassed. He'd nursed a terrible hangover Saturday, and it was made worse when he remembered his confession.<p>He beelined for his office, without making eye contact with anyone. </p>
<p>And—of course—within moments Morgan knocked on his doorframe, greeting him with a warm smile and a hot tea in hand. 'All right?' She stepped forward and placed the mug on his desk. </p>
<p>'Thanks,' he said, to the mug. Then he buried his face in his hands with a groan. 'Ugh, I can't believe myself.' </p>
<p>She laughed, and slipped into the chair on the other side of his desk. 'We all had fun. Let's do it again Friday. Honest.' </p>
<p>He removed the hands from his face, and furrowed his brow. 'That's … kind of you.' </p>
<p>She leaned forward. '<i>We had so much fun</i>. Didn't you?' </p>
<p>He exhaled. 'Yeah. It was a lot of fun. Until I said …' </p>
<p>Morgan waved a hand in the air, like it was a big deal. 'It's good you've got a crush. I've never known you to be interested in anybody.' </p>
<p>Draco just sighed.  </p>
<p>'And you've aimed high,' she said with wide-eyes. 'So. Does he like you back?' </p>
<p>Draco shook his head. 'We're just friends.' </p>
<p>'Well that's progress from Hogwarts, or so I've heard.' </p>
<p>He barked a dry laugh. 'Okay. That may be true.' </p>
<p>She smiled. 'I hope it works out.' </p>
<p>He tried to mirror it. 'Well, thank you, I suppose.' </p>
<p>She rapped her knuckle against the desk. 'Now, stop mooning and get to work.' </p>
<p>He rolled his eyes. 'You are something else. Why did I hire you?' </p>
<p>Morgan stood up and winked. 'Because I'm unexpendable.' </p>
<p>He huffed, but smiled despite himself. 'Right. Thank you for reminding me.' </p>
<p>'Don't forget it!'</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>'Today we're going to make Facebook accounts,' announced Angelpreet, at the start of class. 'Turn on your computers if you haven't already, and open up a browser window.'<p>Draco's computer was on, so he double-clicked the internet browser icon. </p>
<p>Angelpreet walked behind the computer stations, checking that everyone had their browsers up. 'All right. Now I want you to type into the bar at the very top: facebook dot com. Then press the enter button on your keyboard.' </p>
<p>Draco followed along. </p>
<p>Many minutes later, with a little extra troubleshooting for Lucy, they all had signed up for Facebook.  </p>
<p>'Excellent,' said Angelpreet. 'Now let's add our first friend. See the search bar at the top of the webpage? Start typing a name of someone you know, and options should begin to pop up. Now make sure you know it's the right person—as many people could share the same name. The profile photo is a clue, as well as their location.' </p>
<p>Draco took a breath, and began typing in Pansy's name. </p>
<p>A round black and white photo of her stern face showed up as the number one option. She looked rather elegant.  </p>
<p>'Once you've found the person you want to add as a friend, select their name. This will take you to their profile page. Select the "add friend" button, and it will send them a notification that you'd like to be friends. They can then approve or deny the request.' </p>
<p>Draco did as he was told.  </p>
<p>'Excuse me?' Linda asked, raising a hand. 'May I have some help?' </p>
<p>'Of course, Linda,' said Angelpreet, moving to give her some assistance. </p>
<p>As Draco waited for the next steps, he scrolled down Pansy's page. His heartrate sped up. What he hadn't expected to see, was Harry Potter's profile picture all over Pansy's Facebook.  </p>
<p>He scanned the messages. Some were apparently website links to romance novels, and underneath, Harry and Pansy seemed to be chatting about the books.  </p>
<p><i>Randall's a great arse, isn't he?</i> wrote Harry. </p>
<p><i>I absolutely think NOT! He thought Emma was only after him for his money, so of course he'd react that way.</i> said Pansy. </p>
<p><i>Still think he's a bit of an arse,</i> Harry responded. </p>
<p>Merlin. They were … friends? Pansy never mentioned any of this. And she should have. Harry was … Draco caught himself, he was thinking "mine", but that wasn't fair or true in the slightest.  </p>
<p>He exhaled slow, and chastised himself for feeling jealous. Draco was the one who'd decided that it was for the best to keep a little distance between them, a healthy distance.  </p>
<p>Pansy was well in her rights, as was Harry. But it still made him feel like he'd been left out of something. Ah well. Best not to dwell. </p>
<p>Draco received a notification that Pansy had accepted his “friend request”.  </p>
<p>And, by the end of class, Draco’s screen showed a new notification: Evan James wants to be friends.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>It was a cool, Autumn Saturday night, and Draco was home alone. Pansy was out with Blaise, and Morgan was on holiday with family, so Draco had nothing to do, nowhere to go.<p>Draco uncorked a bottle of Spanish red wine (not Ibizan), and put on Boyz II Men's Evolution album. Yes, he buys Muggle albums now. And not just ones that Harry Potter or the island of Ibiza itself had introduced him to. He'd seen this one in the shop, and thought the blokes looked like they made nice music, so he bought it.  </p>
<p>All right, admittedly, he did see it and think: <i>I wonder if Harry would like this.</i> </p>
<p>So Draco sipped his wine, and listened to "4 Seasons of Loneliness" set to repeat. He wasn't overly maudlin or anything. Well … maybe a little. But it was overall a nice-sounding song.  </p>
<p>(Not to mention the line about skinny-dipping in the ocean, which took him right back to that first evening in Ibiza). </p>
<p>A glass or two later, Draco booted up his home computer. (Yes, he’d gone through the immense hassle of purchasing one from the Muggles, and setting up an internet connection.) </p>
<p>'<i>Cause I'm devoted, girl, find me and ease my pain</i>,' he sang along under his breath as he waited. '<i>But four seasons will bring the loneliness again</i>.' </p>
<p>Draco typed in the password (Angelpreet said you should always use a password, even if you live alone and your computer doesn't go anywhere.) </p>
<p>He opened an internet browser. </p>
<p>Ah. He shouldn't. </p>
<p>He really shouldn't. It'll only hurt. </p>
<p>He clicked his "Face Book" bookmark. He looked into his messages. </p>
<p>"Evan James sent a friend request - 1 mutual friend - Confirm - Delete." </p>
<p>He just liked looking at it.  </p>
<p>Sighing, he clicked onto his own friends page, and scrolled through all the photographs of chubby grandchildren and tables filled to the brim with plates of home-cooked food, and found one more relevant to his interests: </p>
<p>"Pansy Parkinson liked Evan James's status: New Video Up." </p>
<p>Draco took a long drink of wine. He hadn't watched Harry's dancing videos since before the trip. Should he? (No.) </p>
<p>He opened a new tab, and typed in "http://www,youtube.com/". It took him to the main page, so he had to type in "Evan James" in the search bar.  </p>
<p>A lot of videos came up, and they weren't Harry. Then, about a dozen videos down, he saw Harry's face. </p>
<p>Draco smiled. Couldn't help it.  </p>
<p>Without overthinking it too much, he selected Harry's screen name, and it took him to Harry's "channel". He browsed the videos, without selecting any. </p>
<p>And maybe he <i>shouldn't</i> select any.  </p>
<p>Harry had several new videos posted, videos of himself dancing, videos of his "gigs" as he called them.  </p>
<p>The video pictures had little notes underneath with numbers of views and the dates uploaded—he'd never noticed that before. </p>
<p>For curiosities sake, he scrolled down to see if anything was posted near his visit. </p>
<p>Oddly, there was a video posted about a week or so after Draco left Ibiza, and the videos previously posted were roughly eight months earlier. He'd taken a long break, then. </p>
<p>Ah. Perhaps he was too upset over that Nils arsehole to post anything. </p>
<p>Hmm. </p>
<p>Well, Draco took another long sip of wine, then pulled his wand out of his pocket and swished it at his "compact disc" player to stop the Boyz II Men. </p>
<p>Once the room was good and silent, Draco clicked the video posted just after his return to London, titled "Dancing to my remix of Tattoo by Jordin Sparks". </p>
<p>It opened with Harry's smiling face, adjusting the camera. </p>
<p>And Draco sucked in a breath, as his heart began to race. </p>
<p>He didn't know why he was expecting any other reaction. This was Harry, after all. </p>
<p>A beat played, and Harry bobbed his head in time as he shimmied backwards to get his entire body in the frame. Grey t-shirt and those rather-small red shorts. </p>
<p>A woman's voice came in with a few "Oh-oh"s as Harry began to move—swinging his arms front to back, getting a feel for the beat. </p>
<p>Harry looked straight at the camera—at Draco—and sang along quietly, 'No matter what you say about love—'  His eyes crinkled on <i>love</i>, and he smiled all lopsided and cute through his singing, '—I keep coming back for more. Keep my hand in the fire, sooner or later, I get what I'm asking for.' You could hardly hear him over the music, but what Draco could hear sounded so <i>soft</i>. </p>
<p>Harry's eyes dropped down from the camera, smiling like he had a secret, and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.  </p>
<p>Draco stared at him, watching him move in time to a song that seemed to be about breaking up, while still keeping your ex in your heart. </p>
<p>It had to be about Nils. </p>
<p>He'd known people that couldn't seem to get over their first loves. People who kept going back and back and back, despite what the other person had done to them.  </p>
<p>Greg … Poor, lovely Greg came to mind. He'd fallen for Tracey Davis hard in sixth year. And they'd dated off and on for years. She cheated on him with a Muggle when we were nineteen, got pregnant, and, in the end, Greg asked her to marry him.  </p>
<p>She left him a few years later, for the final time. Devastated him. It was really hard for little Mark, too—Greg had been the only father the boy had known in his young life. </p>
<p>Draco didn't pretend to understand Greg and his relationship with Tracey, or anyone who experienced relationships like theirs ... but, he certainly hoped Harry wasn't the same … the kind of person who keeps going back, and keeps getting hurt ... </p>
<p>He took another big sip of wine, and just listened, as his eyes unfocussed.</p>
<p><i>Can't waste time so give it a moment. I realise, nothing's broken.</i> </p>
<p>Draco sighed, and shifted his attention back to Harry. </p>
<p>Dancing, smiling, Harry. </p>
<p>The video ended, fading to black. </p>
<p>Draco scrolled down—he never scrolled down. Hadn't known to, before his class. The video description read, simply: <b>nothing's broken.</b> </p>
<p>He scrolled down further, and found heaps of comments—from Harry's many admirers, evidently. There were little yellow cartoon faces with hearts for eyes, people commenting that they'd danced along with Harry (so Draco wasn't special, there), people saying they'd missed him (same, Draco thought), people commenting on his energy, his wholesomeness. </p>
<p>Draco very much agreed. </p>
<p>Puffing out his cheeks, he went to click away from the page. Then he thought—why not? He could leave a comment, too. </p>
<p>He clicked the text box, and it immediately sent him to another page. Draco frowned as it asked him to sign in. He clicked the part that asked, 'don't have an account?' </p>
<p>Merlin, it was making him put in an email and all that. What a hassle. </p>
<p>Fine. </p>
<p>He created a sodding account, under the name "Peter McDonald". </p>
<p>And in the end, it returned him to Harry. </p>
<p>He might've been a bit drunk, and consequently a bit looser with his words, because he typed in: <b>I fucking love you.</b> and selected the blue "COMMENT" button.  </p>
<p>And he immediately groaned at himself. Because … because he was pathetic. Because after <i>months</i> now, he still thought about Harry.</p>
<p>No more wine and YouTube. Time for bed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading ❤️</p>
<p>Next we'll see what's happening in early winter ...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'As many of you know, Colin Creevey was tragically killed in the second Wizarding War, at the age of sixteen,' Draco said as he solemnly observed the crowd from the podium. Many of the war veterans bowed their head in respect. 'He did something that is far from easy to do—take a stand for what is right, in the face of terrible danger and risk. He was the very embodiment of what it means to be Gryffindor—brave, chivalrous, noble. But, all the same, he was just a child, and no child should have to be in the centre of a war.' </p>
<p>Draco took a steady breath before continuing, 'Still—despite the threat of harm—he fought as a hero, alongside the likes of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and so many others.' Draco caught Colin's mother's wet eyes, she nodded at him. 'We are here today to honour Colin Creevey's memory. And, what better way to honour him, than to showcase our veterans' brilliant photography? After all, photography, as you may know, was among Colin's greatest passions.' </p>
<p>Draco turned to the white screen behind himself, and flicked the little plastic button that he held in his palm—a bit of simple Muggle technology. He could handle one button. </p>
<p>The screen flicked on to a black and white self-portrait of Colin, with his name, and the years <i>1981-1998</i> typed underneath. He looked so young, so innocent, smiling sweetly at the lens with a slightly tilted head.  </p>
<p>Draco flicked to the next slide—an image of Hogwarts taken from the south side, with dramatic stormy clouds overhead. 'These are some of Colin's works, kindly provided by his family,' Draco said, clicking through. 'We have some of these prints available for auction.'</p>
<p>There was one of the Weeping Willow, Hagrid's Hut, and then, one of Harry—looking rather exasperated, Draco noted with an aching fondness. Harry had to be fourteen or so, Draco guessed, since Harry'd been a bit more shaggy-haired around the Tri-wizard tournament, and it fit the bill. Draco realised he'd paused a bit too long, and cleared his throat. 'He had quite the eye.' Draco clicked through. The Great Lake. Then a huge, gnarled old tree that must've been deep in the Forbidden Forest, because Draco didn't recognise it. Another photograph of Harry—grim, with darkness under his eyes. Had to be Sixth year, he thought with a pang. That'd been a difficult year.  </p>
<p>Draco turned slightly to the crowd. 'Good friend of Harry Potter, wasn't he?' he said, forcing a smile. </p>
<p>Of course Colin had taken so many photos of Harry ... Harry was ...</p>
<p>He cleared his throat, and clicked to the next photo.</p>
<p>The next photo was Harry at twelve, Draco was sure of it. So little, yet so relentlessly determined. He licked at his bottom lip, and clicked through. </p>
<p>The montage ended with a photo of Colin's family—mum, dad, and his brother Dennis. All stood in front of their modest suburban Muggle home.  </p>
<p>'Colin had a real talent,' Draco said, facing the crowd again. 'And he's inspired us to hold the gallery showing that you see here today—each photograph was taken by one of our veteran members.' He outstretched his arm towards the photographs hanging on the walls. 'The artworks displayed here are available for purchase, with 100% of the proceeds going back into veteran programmes such as this. Please enjoy.' </p>
<p>Claps rang around the room. </p>
<p>Draco stepped down, and joined the crowd. He beelined for Mrs and Mr Creevey, who waited to greet him with warm, albeit sad, smiles. Draco extended a hand, to shake both of theirs.  </p>
<p>'This is lovely,' said Mrs Creevey, taking a sweeping look around the room. 'Colin would be so pleased to see this, to see all these people coming together for him. For photography.' </p>
<p>Draco nodded. 'I hope we did right by him. The veterans certainly enjoyed learning how to shoot, and had much fun going off in groups on photoshoots every Sunday afternoon.' He took a sweeping glance at the photographs displayed on the walls. 'It was a great way for them to try something new, something creative. They really took to it.' He was proud of them—he was <i>proud</i> of the proud looks he'd seen on all their faces as this gallery auction was being organised. They'd been so excited that he was too. </p>
<p>
 'Thank you again Mr Malfoy,' Mr Creevey said, taking his hand again. 'We're just glad Colin's helping people.' 
</p>
<p>
  'Draco,' he reminded Mr Creevey for what must’ve been the tenth time, smiling. 'And no need to thank me. I'm just glad Colin's helping people, too.' 
</p>
<p>
  Mr Creevey smiled back.  
</p>
<p>
  'Well, why don't you both have a look at the photos?' Draco suggested. 'And enjoy some refreshments.' 
</p>
<p>
  They nodded, and wandered off to take his advice. 
</p>
<p>
Draco exhaled. He hated speaking at these things—felt wrong talking about the bravery of dead children when he had been actively fighting against them. He was always waiting for someone to call him out, to point out the hypocrisy. But … it was all better than doing nothing, he supposed. He could endure a little discomfort, if it meant doing something good. 
</p>
<p>
He wandered off to the wall, and grabbed a flute of champagne from a tray on the way. 
</p>
<p>
He soon found himself in front of one of Colin's portraits of Harry Potter. It was Third year, he guessed, because Harry had had pretty decent hair that year—had a bit of style, and wasn't as shaggy and flat and later years. Of course, Harry's hair was best nowadays—curly and bouncy, shaved close on the sides.  
</p>
<p>
In this portrait, Harry laughed with Ron and Hermione, sat in the Great Hall over notebooks and open textbooks. It gave Draco a pang of nostalgia.  
</p>
<p>
'Quite the eye, eh?' said a startlingly familiar voice beside him.  
</p>
<p>
Draco jumped, just a little, and turned to the source of the voice. 'Harry,' he said, trying to hide his shock. There Harry was, in the flesh, and ... and exceptionally handsome in a herringbone grey Muggle suit and black tie. 
</p>
<p>
Bit odd to see him without a t-shirt and shorts. Bit strange to see him at Draco's charity function in London, full stop. 
</p>
<p>
'Hello,' Harry said, flashing him a radiant smile.  
</p>
<p>
'You're in London.' 
</p>
<p>
'Very observant,' Harry teased, still smiling at him.  
</p>
<p>
 Reminding himself to breathe, he took a breath. Draco's heart was in his throat. 'And to what do we, the general British population, owe the pleasure?' 
</p>
<p>
Harry let out a breathy laugh. 'Pansy invited me.' 
</p>
<p>
'Ah. Did she,' Draco said, looking around the room for the offending subject. He found her, across the room, chatting with Morgan. She could've at least warned him. 
</p>
<p>
'Besides, I thought it was time to pay a visit. I've been gone long enough.' 
</p>
<p>
Draco whipped his head back around to stare at him. 'You are … going back, though, right?' He had to … that was <i>him</i>, Ibiza was <i>him</i>. 
</p>
<p>
The smile faded slightly. 'I will.' 
</p>
<p>
Draco nodded, furrowing his brow, and looked around at the crowd of guests—milling about, looking at photographs and sipping their champagnes, eating the hors d'oeuvres. 
</p>
<p>
His heart was racing, quite fast really.
</p>
<p>
It suddenly struck him as odd that Harry was talking to Draco, alone. Harry'd been away for <i>years</i>, his disappearance was a mystery that the masses had been chomping at the bit to solve. 'Why hasn't everyone been surrounding you with questions this whole time?' 
</p>
<p>
Harry winced, and shifted his weight from foot to the other. 'Yeah, I cast a Notice-me-not at the start. I've just lifted it temporarily so I could talk to you.' 
</p>
<p>
 Oh … 'So no grand announcement at my charity function, hmm? It'd make the papers.' 
</p>
<p>
Harry winced even bigger. 'Lord, no … Unless … Fuck, it'd help draw attention to your charity, wouldn't it?' 
</p>
<p>
 Harry looked so pained and conflicted that Draco had to laugh. 'I'd never do that. Or maybe I would,' he considered. 'But, not with you.' That much was true.  
</p>
<p>
Harry seemed to relax, sagging with relief. 'I mean … if it'd help.' 
</p>
<p>
 Draco shook his head, smiling.  
</p>
<p>
Morgan and Pansy appeared, making Harry jump. 
</p>
<p>
'Relax,' said Pansy, with a laugh in her voice. 'It's not the press.' She laid a hand on Harry's arm.
</p>
<p>
 Harry laughed under his breath.
</p>
<p>
  Draco thought it was rather odd to see them together, joking.  
</p>
<p>
'Hello Harry Potter,' said Morgan, with candy-pink curls bouncing as she extended a hand. 'I'm Morgan Beauregard, Draco's assistant.' 
</p>
<p>
They shook hands. 'Nice to meet you,' Harry said. 'And just Harry's fine.' 
</p>
<p>
'Morgan is my right-hand woman,' Draco explained. 
</p>
<p>
'Ah.' 
</p>
<p>
'He'd be lost without me,' Morgan said, conspiratorially, smiling.  
</p>
<p>
'Yes, well.' It was true, but he wasn't going to admit that now.
</p>
<p>
'What brings you to our charity function? I thought you were on the lam,' Morgan asked. 
</p>
<p>
Harry looked a bit put on the spot. 'Well, I … came to support the cause, support Draco.' 
</p>
<p>
‘Wonderful,’ Morgan said, shooting a wink at Draco. 
</p>
<p>
 Draco frowned at her. 
</p>
<p>
‘Well, we’ll leave you both to catch up, won’t we, Pans?’ Morgan asked. 
</p>
<p>
‘Of course.’ Pansy smiled, taking Morgan’s arm, and stalking off. 
</p>
<p>
Draco exhaled slow. They were up to no good, that much was certain. 
</p>
<p>
'This is really nice,' Harry remarked, looking around the room over Draco's shoulder. 'All of it. And it was kind what you said. I think Colin's parents were touched.'
</p>
<p>
Draco puffed out his cheeks. 'Well, thanks.' He made a little shrug of his shoulders.
</p>
<p>
'You did good,' Harry said, rather earnestly. 
</p>
<p>
Draco managed a smile.
</p>
<p>
His heartrate hadn't settled down at all.
</p>
<p>
Harry tilted his head in close to ask, 'Can I talk to you sometime? In private?'   
</p>
<p>
Draco looked up into his eyes, and saw them sparkle with warmth. Rendered speechless, Draco nodded slowly. 
</p>
<p>
'Great.' Harry just stood there, smiling at him. 
</p>
<p>
Right. 
</p>
<p>
Draco looked around at all the guests, the potential donors. 'I'll have to clean up after this.' 
</p>
<p>
'No problem. No hurry.' 
</p>
<p>
He nodded again. 'I should ... speak to a few people.'   
</p>
<p>
What could Harry want to talk about? 
</p>
<p>
'Oh. Of course, don't let me keep you.' 
</p>
<p>
'Okay.' Draco paused, to make sure it was truly all right. He didn’t <i>want</i> to leave Harry. But … but he really was trying to make money for the charity today. 
</p>
<p>
Harry nodded at him, so Draco tossed him one more smile before he wandered off, and greeted guest after guest, thanking them for coming.  
</p>
<p>
All the while, he was extremely conscious of Harry's presence, and the impending <i>talk</i>. 
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>It was finally over. 'Right, so, we'll just tidy up.'<p>'Can I help?' Harry asked. </p>
<p>'No,' he said quickly. He needed a second to gather himself, <i>away</i> from Harry. This was all very … sudden. 'Thank you, though. How about I, uh, deposit you in my flat—it's down the street. And I'll join you when we're finished.' </p>
<p>'Sure.' </p>
<p>So, Draco allowed Harry to loop his arm through his, and Side-Alonged him to outside Draco's flat. </p>
<p>They climbed the flight of stairs in silence, and Draco keyed open the door. 'Right, ah, I don't remember how clean I left it.' </p>
<p>'Don't care,' Harry said cheerfully, peering inside. </p>
<p>'Well, make yourself comfortable. Might be a good hour or so.' </p>
<p>Harry stepped past Draco to toe off his shoes onto the mat. He shrugged off his heavy tweed coat and hung it up on one Draco's wall hooks.  </p>
<p>He looked so different from when Draco had last seen him—he dressed like a London businessman, not an Ibizan DJ. </p>
<p>Had Harry changed? Was he still the same person who danced with him in a red-tinted club? </p>
<p>Harry took a passing glance of what he could see of the flat. 'Nice place.' </p>
<p>'Thank you.' </p>
<p>And why hadn't Draco hugged Harry, when he first saw him? They'd hugged goodbye in Ibiza. Surely they could hug hello in London. They were friends, weren't they? Despite Draco's, well, distance—literally and figuratively. </p>
<p>Harry turned back to look at him expectantly.  </p>
<p>'Right, well, I'll be off then.' </p>
<p>Smiling, Harry said, 'See you soon.' </p>
<p>'Yeah.'</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Draco returned to the hall, to find the clean-up already in full swing. He marched up to Pansy, who was currently barking orders at some blokes packing away the sound system.<p>'Pans.' </p>
<p>She whirled on him, and the scowl on her face quickly turned into a broad grin. '<i>Draco</i>.' </p>
<p>'Think you're clever, do you?' </p>
<p>She laughed. 'Quite clever. Or didn't you want to see the love of your life again?' </p>
<p>He glowered at her. 'I had been <i>trying</i> to move on, after I was rejected. Need I remind you of that fact?' </p>
<p>'Pfft.' Pansy smacked his arm. 'Don't be so dramatic, darling.' She looked around. 'So, where is he?' </p>
<p>He frowned. 'Back at my flat, waiting for me because he wants to have a private chat about something.' </p>
<p>A laugh burst out of Pansy, and she clapped her hands together. 'Brilliant.' </p>
<p>She was impossible. Bloody impossible. </p>
<p>He could see that he wasn't going to get through to her. So he surveyed the room, eyed a lone table stacked with brochures that needed to be packed away. Shaking his head, he walked towards them. </p>
<p>'You're welcome!' Pansy called after him, amusement evident in her tone. </p>
<p>He just shook his head again, and fished an empty cardboard box out from under the table cloth, getting to work.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>The clean-up took a bit longer than planned. With arms full, Draco shuffled back to his flat, tired, and just as unsure as he'd been at the start of this reunion.<p>He keyed open the door, toed off his shoes, and set his briefcase down on the floor. </p>
<p>He spotted Harry positively draped over his sofa, with mobile phone in hand. </p>
<p>Harry tossed him a smile, and swung his legs over and onto the floor, sitting up. 'Hey.' </p>
<p>'Hello,' Draco answered, fumbling to take off his coat with one hand, because the other was holding a box. He managed to hang it up, and stepped deeper into his flat. 'Sorry it took longer than I thought.' </p>
<p>'No problem.' </p>
<p>'The caterers had leftover pastries,' Draco said, placing the white box on the coffee table. 'Help yourself if you'd like.' </p>
<p>Harry eyed the box for a beat, then looked up at Draco with a rather serious expression. </p>
<p>Ah. Here we go. </p>
<p>Harry pushed himself up off the sofa, so they were eye-to-eye. His expression turned apologetic, and Draco was quite sure that whatever he was going to say, Draco didn't want to hear it. </p>
<p>'I'm so sorry, I asked you to talk and, well, I've been texting Ron and Hermione while you were out. And I really think I need to have a chat in person with them. They're leaving for Romania in a couple days, and are swamped with preparations tomorrow. Ron's got to secure the Portkey still, and ...' </p>
<p>Draco blinked at him. 'You want to go see them? Now?' </p>
<p>'Er, yeah. Just for dinner, and how about I come back after, yeah? We can talk and catch up then. Would that be all right?' </p>
<p>'Yeah,' he said. 'Yeah, fine.' </p>
<p>'Brilliant,' Harry beamed, seemingly relieved Draco wasn't bothered by this. And of course Draco wasn't—it was Weasley and Granger. They were … well, a huge part of Harry Potter. <i>This</i> Harry Potter—British Harry. London-Harry. </p>
<p>He nodded. </p>
<p>'Can I use your Floo? And I'll Floo back once I'm done?' </p>
<p>'Be my guest,' he said, gesturing a hand towards his fireplace. </p>
<p>'Thank you,' Harry said, hesitating. His eyes scanned over Draco's face. 'I … I missed you, do you know that?' </p>
<p>Draco opened his mouth to say something, and nothing came out. Instead, a small, bewildered smile formed on his mouth. </p>
<p>'Anyway, I'll see you in a few hours,' Harry said, making his way to the fireplace. </p>
<p>Draco turned to watch him grab a handful of Floo-powder, and arrange himself in the hearth. Harry looked up at him for a brief moment, and shot him a little smile.  </p>
<p>Then he was off in a burst of green flames. </p>
<p>Draco sighed, and lowered himself down onto the sofa.  </p>
<p>'And now we wait,' he said aloud, to the empty room. </p>
<p>Draco sat on the sofa and stared out at the far wall. He reached for the white box in front of him—opening it up to see what was there. Not a bad selection of French pastries. He munched on a croissant and brushed the crumbs unto the floor. Then he Scourgified the floor. </p>
<p>Eventually he got up to tend to dinner—a microwaved bowl of canned minestrone soup.  </p>
<p>He threw Britney Spears' "Oops!…I did it again" album on. But he wasn't really in the mood, in the end, so Draco shut it off after a few songs. </p>
<p>Then he settled onto his laptop, and did a bit of work. He wanted to get better at this whole "power point" thing that everyone was talking about. He had a presentation with senior staff next week, and he wanted to make some jazzy for them to look at while he talked. </p>
<p>By midnight, Harry still hadn't returned.  </p>
<p>Maybe he'd changed his mind.  </p>
<p>He had Weasley and Granger back, now. </p>
<p>Maybe they'd reminded Harry why he'd hated Draco for all those years. </p>
<p>Knocked some sense into him. </p>
<p>Draco went into his bedroom, and eyed his bed for a good bit—considering just climbing in and sleeping. Merlin knew he could use the rest. The day's fundraiser had caused its fair share of missed sleep all around.  </p>
<p>But … he didn't want Harry to find him in bed. </p>
<p>So, Draco changed into a pair of navy joggers and a white t-shirt, grabbed the paperback on his night stand, and relocated to the living room sofa.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>Draco winced, and rubbed at a crick in his neck.<p>Morning sun was streaming into his eyes from the window behind the sofa. </p>
<p>Ah. </p>
<p>Harry hadn't come. </p>
<p>And he'd dozed on the sofa at some point.  </p>
<p>Well, time to get ready for work, he thought glumly, as he pulled himself up. His limbs felt like cement. Hadn't slept much or very well, evidently.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>A sharp knock on his glass office door startled Draco awake (he might've been resting his eyes on his arms, just for a little while).<p>'Hey boss,' said Morgan cheerfully, waltzing in with a big, steaming mug of tea. </p>
<p>'For me?' he asked hopefully. </p>
<p>She laughed. 'Your office is surrounded by glass. I can see you need the pick-me-up.' She set the mug down, and Draco slid it closer to himself with both hands. 'Late night?' she asked with forced-innocence. </p>
<p>Draco sighed. 'Yes, but not for an interesting reason.'  </p>
<p>She quirked an eyebrow. 'Did you and,' she cleared her throat, and very-obviously fought back a full grin, 'Harry Potter see one another?' </p>
<p>'Briefly.' </p>
<p>That ghost-of-a-smile faded away. 'Oh. Really?' </p>
<p>'Never mind that.' He cleared his throat, and straightened up. 'I did complete the "power point" for the senior leadership meeting. Can you check it over for me?' </p>
<p>Morgan blinked at him. 'Yeah. Yeah, of course. Just email it to me.'  </p>
<p>Draco nodded. </p>
<p>Licking her lip, Morgan backed out, and smacked at the door frame with her palm. She looked as if she was considering saying something, but Draco did not have the energy to prod her, so he turned to his computer instead.  </p>
<p>He was still a bit slow with emails, but if he went slow, he usually got the job done properly. First step was to bring up a blank email. He found the "new message" button and clicked. </p>
<p>A knock rattled the glass door. </p>
<p>Draco glanced up, and saw a very sheepish and ruffled-looking Harry Potter standing on the other side of his door. </p>
<p>Harry … here? </p>
<p>Swallowing, Draco gestured for him to come in. </p>
<p>Harry opened the door hesitantly, and closed it softly behind himself. He took one quick step forward, then stopped. 'I'm so sorry.' </p>
<p>Apologising again, Draco thought, as he leant back in his desk chair to get a proper look at Harry. He was wearing another suit—this one charcoal grey with a black button-down. London-businessman. Draco frowned. And Harry's hair was a bit flat, his skin peaky, and dark under his eyes. He might not've slept either. </p>
<p>Harry ran a hand through his hair, and looked rather apologetic. 'We ended up talking through the night. There were a lot of tears, and then there were laughs, and, um … Well we sorted everything out.' </p>
<p>'That's great.' It <i>was</i>. Just … just what on earth did Harry Potter <i>want</i>? </p>
<p>Harry seemed to be searching for the right words. 'I hope you didn't wait up for me.' </p>
<p>'No,' Draco lied. Well, mostly lied. He had dozed a bit, after all. </p>
<p>Harry bit at his lip and just hovered there.  </p>
<p>'How did you know where I work?' </p>
<p>Harry had the sense to look abashed. 'Pansy.' </p>
<p>'Colluding with her behind my back, are you,' Draco asked, but not really. He didn't need an answer, he knew they were colluding.  </p>
<p>Harry took a step closer, and fiddled with his hands—wringing at them, swinging them. 'Listen, can we talk?' </p>
<p>'I'm working, Potter.' </p>
<p>'Right.' Harry blinked at him like he'd only just realised that Draco was at work. 'Sorry, yeah, I'll just … try you later,' he said, getting quieter the more he spoke. Harry turned towards the door and reached out for the handle. Something made him pause, because he curled his fingers into a fist, and turned right back around. </p>
<p>Draco waited with mouth pinched shut. </p>
<p>'Can we give it a go?' </p>
<p>'Give <i>what</i> a go?'  </p>
<p>'You and me.' Harry took a couple steps forward—his eyes so wide and sodding <i>green</i>. 'You said you fancied me once, you came all the way to Ibiza to tell me you fancied me. And … well, here I am now, doing the same—coming all the way from Ibiza to tell you the same. I ... fancy you, Draco.' </p>
<p>Draco was gripping the edge of his desk rather hard. This … this didn't seem right. 'You fancy me.' </p>
<p>'<i>Yes</i>.' </p>
<p>'What about Nils?' </p>
<p>Harry barked out a humourless laugh. '<i>What about</i> Nils? I'm over it, so over it. Over him.' </p>
<p>Draco licked at his lower lip, and chewed on it a bit, as he considered this new information. He should be happy. But there were logistics here that couldn't be ignored. At the end of the day … Draco's home was here, and Harry's was on a Spanish island. You can’t build something real from that. You can’t build a … a family. </p>
<p>Harry took a deep breath. 'I wanted to be sure … I wanted to take the time to be ready for a relationship—a relationship with you. And I am.' A small smile flashed on his face, then it was gone. 'Unless … maybe you don't feel the same? Or … are you seeing someone now?'  </p>
<p>Draco shook his head, and found he couldn't quite look at Harry's face at that moment. 'You live in Ibiza, I live here.' </p>
<p>'Sure, but, we could make it work, right?' </p>
<p>'I don't want a long-distance relationship.' He shut his eyes. </p>
<p>Was he … </p>
<p>Was he really rejecting Harry right now? </p>
<p>He felt Harry's eyes on him, but he didn't dare look. </p>
<p>'I … I understand that,' Harry said quietly. 'Maybe I … well, shouldn't've come …' </p>
<p>Draco shook his head.  </p>
<p>No, maybe he shouldn't've. Because Draco had been doing so well with moving on.  </p>
<p>A sharp tap on the glass door came, and without waiting for an answer, Morgan took the liberty of inserting herself into the room.  </p>
<p>'Just need a signature, sir,' she said hurriedly. </p>
<p>Draco eyed her wearily, and nodded. He was very strategically not looking at Harry's face, because he didn't think he could handle it.  </p>
<p>'I'll just be off, then,' Harry said quietly, stepping towards the door. </p>
<p>'No!' said Morgan. She cleared her throat. 'It's just one little signature. Wait there, Harry.' </p>
<p>She hurried to Draco's side, and held a paper out at him. </p>
<p>Draco frowned at it, it seemed to be a menu from the sandwich shop across the street. </p>
<p>Leaning in close to Draco's ear, Morgan whispered quite loudly, 'You know how to use computers, now, Draco.' </p>
<p>'What does that—' </p>
<p>'Hush. You can use them, so you can work <i>remotely</i>. Get it? You could work from, say, an island someplace?' </p>
<p>'Morgan—' </p>
<p>'We can set up video calls for meetings. You could Portkey in once and a while for fundraisers and galas and whatnot. But it's <i>doable</i>. You understand?' </p>
<p>'Morgan,' he said through his teeth, 'when were you going to tell me that you can hear everything in my very private office?' </p>
<p>She blinked at him. 'I wasn't.' </p>
<p>Merlin's— </p>
<p>'Draco, don't give up just when you've got everything you've always wanted. Choose happiness.' She looked into his eyes meaningfully. 'Or you'll regret it for the rest of your life.'  </p>
<p>And Draco chanced a glance at Harry, who was staring back at him with his mouth pinched small and eyebrows budged together.</p>
<p>'Besides, you're clearly exhausted and not thinking straight.' She stood up and looked between them, raising her voice to normal volume as she said, 'I'm dismissing you. You're unfit to work. Go back to your flat and have a rest.' She turned on Harry. 'Harry, where are you staying while you're in London?' </p>
<p>He blinked at her for a beat. 'Oh, ah, haven't sorted that part yet,' he said quietly. </p>
<p>So bloody quietly. </p>
<p>Draco hated it. </p>
<p>'Brilliant, you can stay in Draco's spare room. Right, Draco? Anyway, off with you both.' </p>
<p>She shot Draco one more meaningful look over her shoulder as she waltzed out of his office. </p>
<p>Draco rubbed his face, then pushed himself up to stand. 'She's got a point,' he admitted out loud, even though Harry wouldn't likely have heard all the whispered words in his ear. Unless he had, since Morgan is not subtle in anything she attempts.  </p>
<p>He stepped around his desk, and made for the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. 'Will you come? Please?' </p>
<p>'Yes.' </p>
<p>Draco started to walk towards the lifts. 'Wait. Sod it, I'm too tired to walk.' He whirled on Harry and asked, 'Side-Along?' </p>
<p>'Yeah, all right.'  </p>
<p>Harry touched Draco's arm, and Draco Disapparrated them out of there.  </p>
<p>'I <i>am</i> bloody exhausted,' he muttered as he made to open his flat door. 'Just let me sleep for a bit.' </p>
<p>Harry huffed a little laugh, coming into the flat behind him. 'You waited up for me.' </p>
<p>'<i>Yes</i>, all right I admit it.' </p>
<p>'I <i>am</i> sorry.' </p>
<p>'You apologise too much.' Draco toed off his shoes and walked off towards his bedroom. He whirled around, just realising, 'I don't have a spare room.' </p>
<p>'I know.' </p>
<p>'What do you mean, you know?' </p>
<p>'Left me here for a couple hours yesterday, didn't you? I saw your CDs.' Harry smiled, but it had a tinge of sadness.  </p>
<p>Draco frowned. 'You snooped.' </p>
<p>'Mildly.' </p>
<p>He laughed, despite himself. 'Yeah all right.' He turned around to go into his bedroom. A change of clothes was in order. </p>
<p>'You like Boyz II Men?' </p>
<p>Draco paused with his finger over his shirt button. He stepped closer to his bedroom doorway, and found Harry there, leaning against the frame and very-slightly smiling. </p>
<p>Harry's eyes drifted lower, noting the half-undone state of Draco's shirt. </p>
<p>'Yes, I do,' Draco admitted, as Harry's smile grew, slow and lazy. 'Don't you?' </p>
<p>'I like that you like them.' </p>
<p>Draco went back to unbuttoning. 'Well, I have exceptional taste.' </p>
<p>Harry huffed a little laugh under his breath. 'Do you.' </p>
<p>Draco decided not to comment further, and moved out of Harry's line of sight again—back to the closet. He tossed his button-up into the hamper, and grabbed a clean t-shirt from the shelf inside the closet, pulling it on. </p>
<p>'You can stay here, if you want, you know,' Draco said, unbuttoning his trousers next. 'While you're in London. How long are you staying, anyhow? You still have "gigs" every Friday night, don't you?' He pulled on a pair of grey joggers. There, he was comfortable. </p>
<p>When Harry didn't say anything, Draco moved back into the line of sight from the doorway. Harry hadn't moved. Instead, he puffed his cheeks up with air, then expelled it.  </p>
<p>'Well,' he started, 'I'm on a bit of a break. Thought I'd stay through the holidays.' </p>
<p>Draco blinked at him. 'You're talking over a month.' </p>
<p>'Yes.' </p>
<p>That was … not the answer he expected. Thought it would be a couple days, and Draco would have to go through another trial of sad custard-eating on the sofa to the soundtrack of Boyz II Men.  </p>
<p>''But if you'd rather not see me …' Harry cut himself off, and his expression sobered.  </p>
<p>'I didn't say that.' </p>
<p>'Well. Nonetheless, my plans aren't set in stone.' </p>
<p><i>Stay</i>. </p>
<p>Or not. </p>
<p>Salazar … Draco didn't know what he wanted. Or he did, and he wanted Harry not to have to compromise or sacrifice any part of his life in Ibiza, certainly not for his sake. And he wanted Harry to stay and never leave. All this at once. </p>
<p>But he couldn't say that. </p>
<p>He didn't know what to bloody-well say. </p>
<p>And Harry was just standing there, in his tailored suit, looking out at Draco's bedroom with unfocussed eyes. </p>
<p>'Why are you wearing suits all of a sudden?' </p>
<p>Harry looked down at himself and laughed. 'What—does this bother you?' </p>
<p>'Yes.' </p>
<p>Seemingly bewildered and amused all at once, Harry asked, 'Would you rather I wear a t-shirt, shorts, and a pair of sunglasses to your fundraiser? To your workplace?' </p>
<p>Draco frowned. 'Suppose not.' It's just … he missed beachwear Harry, because that’d been the Harry that <i>liked him</i>. Yes, he was ridiculous. </p>
<p>Harry shook his head, smiling. </p>
<p>'And now? While you aren't at one of my fundraisers or my place of business?' </p>
<p>'Got something for me to wear?' </p>
<p>Draco blinked at him. 'Ah, suppose.' He walked back over to his closet, and pulled out a couple things for him. Comfortable. Casual.  </p>
<p>Harry took the articles out of Draco's hand, and headed off for the bathroom. </p>
<p>Draco stood for a moment, just staring at the spot Harry'd just occupied. Swallowing, he felt the heaviness in his limbs—more evident now that Harry wasn't distracting him. </p>
<p>Draco turned and eyed his bed, his bed that he hadn't slept in in far too long.  </p>
<p><i>Just go to sleep,</i> his mind told him. <i>Think later. Worry later.</i> </p>
<p>So, Draco climbed in, and let his eyes fall closed. </p>
<p>Some time later, he heard a muffled snort of amusement, and felt the bed dip to his left.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~</p>
</div>When Draco awoke, he was alone in his bedroom, and felt loads better. Blearily, he stretched out his limbs in all directions, and made to get up. His head felt much clearer. Just needed a bit of sleep, apparently.<p>He heard a drawer open and close, from the direction of the kitchen. </p>
<p><i>Harry</i>, he thought happily.  </p>
<p><i>Harry fancies me, came all this way to say so. Fancy that, eh?</i> </p>
<p>He pulled himself up out of bed, and padded over to the kitchen in his socked feet. </p>
<p>Harry stood with his back to Draco—Draco's own white t-shirt, wrinkled and hanging off his shoulders. Black joggers that were a bit short on him, showing off some anklebone and bare feet. He turned slowly, wiping at his left eye underneath his glasses as he did so. A sleepy smile grew on his mouth. 'Thought you might like some tea.' </p>
<p>Draco looked at the countertop, and spotted two steaming mugs of tea sitting there.  </p>
<p>Harry'd found the tea bags, the mugs, all on his own. He'd added milk to Draco's, remembering how he liked it. </p>
<p>And Harry's curls were all flat on one side.  </p>
<p>Draco … Draco was in love with him. </p>
<p>He took a few steps closer, and checked that the tea was exactly the shade of brown that he preferred—and it was. </p>
<p>Draco nudged the handle of one of the mugs, so that it lined up perfectly with the other one. </p>
<p>He looked up at Harry's sleepy, slack face. His startlingly green eyes ... eyes that sent a jolt to his chest the moment they shifted and looked back, straight into his.  </p>
<p>'What?' Harry asked softly. </p>
<p>Draco took a step closer towards Harry. He was very much in Harry's personal space—close enough to feel the heat off him, to hear the soft puffs of his breath. </p>
<p>His heartrate picked up, and he squeezed his eyes shut. </p>
<p>'You fancy me?' Draco allowed his eyes to open slowly, to find a spot on Harry's chest, and to drift up over the skin on his neck. He had a mole, just under his Adam's apple, and two slight wrinkles—horizontal slashes over his skin.  </p>
<p>Harry's chin was next, showing some black stubble. </p>
<p>'I do.' </p>
<p>Draco allowed his gaze to drift up further, to stare straight into Harry’s eyes. They were serious, unblinking, earnest. </p>
<p>Harry … fancies him. </p>
<p>Draco leaned in, holding a hand to Harry's waist, gently—for balance. And he kissed Harry's lips, soft and slow and gentle.  </p>
<p>Harry smiled against Draco's mouth, and leaned into it, cupping the side of Draco's face.  </p>
<p><i>Soft.</i> </p>
<p><i>Warm</i>. </p>
<p>This was the boy with taped-up glasses and over-sized hand-me-down clothes to Madam Malkin's, the boy who then refused to shake his hand, refused his friendship, on the train. This is the one who fainted from Dementors, the one who nearly killed Draco in a bathroom. And who saved his life on the back of a broom in a burning room.  </p>
<p>This was a boy who fought monsters, and survived.  </p>
<p>This was the boy who danced in the middle of the Great Hall with Parvati Patil, and the man who danced with him at red-tinged gay club in Ibiza Town.  </p>
<p>This was a man who'd run off to find himself. And he had … on an island in the Balearic sea. Making music for dancing, music for joy. This was the man who swims naked, who lays on his back and looks up at the stars.  </p>
<p>This was the man who made Draco take a cock bottle-opener back with him. The man who laughed with him, who listened to him, who trusted him with painful secrets.  </p>
<p>And Draco was … </p>
<p>Kissing him. </p>
<p>In his kitchen, as they leaned their hips against his countertop.  </p>
<p>Draco broke away, and laughed, dropping his head down against Harry's neck. His nose brushed against Harry's collarbone. </p>
<p>He didn't know why he was laughing. </p>
<p>He was just happy, he supposed. </p>
<p>Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders, and nuzzled Draco's hair, breathing in.  </p>
<p>Draco kissed a lovely trail up Harry's neck, to the roughness of his jaw. He continued his path over to Harry's waiting mouth. </p>
<p>And there it was—the first tentative touches of Harry's tongue to his.  </p>
<p>His toes curled against the linoleum tile.  </p>
<p>If you'd've told Draco at age eleven … </p>
<p>No. He gave a mental shake to his head. <i>Just enjoy this</i>. </p>
<p>Harry's mouth. Draco could live the rest of his life in this mouth. </p>
<p>No, that was stupid. </p>
<p>He was just happy. </p>
<p>Harry pulled away, and thumbed at Draco's cheekbone. 'What does this mean?' </p>
<p>Draco searched Harry's eyes—impossibly close, impossibly bright. Those … those black eyelashes. 'I think this means yes, doesn’t it?' he breathed out. 'To your question.' </p>
<p>'Oh yeah? Which one?' There was amusement in his tone. </p>
<p>Harry wanted him to spell it out, then. Well, all right, he would. 'Let's give it a go. Your words.' </p>
<p>Harry's fingertip found Draco's earlobe, and traced the bottom. 'And the distance?' </p>
<p>Draco cleared his throat, shutting his eyes at the touch—he was getting goose bumps up the back of his arms. 'I can work from anywhere with a computer. And travel by Portkey when necessary.' </p>
<p>'So we'll split our time?' </p>
<p>Draco opened his eyes, and saw the hope there, in Harry's. 'If that works for you.' </p>
<p>A slow smile formed on Harry's mouth. 'Works perfectly.' The smile turned to a grin, a grin he tried to bite back. 'Brilliantly.' </p>
<p>Merlin, Harry Potter was … well, Draco leaned in and kissed him again.  </p>
<p>Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders, and kissed him back.  </p>
<p>Draco's fingers tightened against the t-shirt material at Harry's waist. He broke away, and asked, a bit out of breath, 'What now, then?' </p>
<p>‘Now I kiss you,’ Harry murmured, leaning in, as Draco moved his head back out of reach. </p>
<p>‘I mean, well, what are your plans?’ </p>
<p>Harry leant his forehead against Draco's, and shrugged his shoulders. 'When we’re not doing this, suppose at some point you can show me around London, all your favourite spots. Take me dancing or something.' </p>
<p>Draco laughed under his breath. 'You know London.' His fingers snaked around to Harry's back.  </p>
<p>'Not all of it.' He kissed at Draco's mouth, once, twice. 'You know, I first felt a sudden urge to kiss you when I learnt you knew the words to a Britney Spears song.' </p>
<p>Draco laughed, against Harry's jaw. 'So, about thirty minutes into our Ibizan reunion, then?'  </p>
<p>'Just about,' Harry said, smiling as he leant in for another.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading, just a little epilogue is up next ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco opened his eyes slowly. </p>
<p>Blue skies overheard, the bluest of blue. The sun beaming down, warm on his skin. He was ... thoroughly relaxed. </p>
<p>'You dozed off, there,' Harry said, tilting his head over Draco's line of sight, blocking the sunlight. </p>
<p>Draco smiled sleepily.  </p>
<p>'Island life is changing you.' </p>
<p>Draco quirked an eyebrow. 'For the better?' </p>
<p>A soft laugh escaped Harry, leaning done to kiss him. 'For the lazier.' </p>
<p>'Hmph,' he uttered against Harry's mouth. He could pretend to be offended, but, well, he wasn't. </p>
<p>'Come on, let's swim.' </p>
<p>With one eye, he watched Harry rise to his feet and pull of his t-shirt, tossing it aside. Harry squinted out at the water, and pushed down his shorts and pants in one easy swoop. </p>
<p>Draco sucked in a breath, and reached out for Harry's ankle (the closest body part to him). 'Harry—' </p>
<p>Harry tilted towards him, smiling rather deviously. 'We did this once before.' </p>
<p>'In the dark,' Draco reminded him, looking up the long bare length of him.  </p>
<p>'If you don't want to, you don't have to,' he said cheerfully, then stepped away from Draco's loosely clutching fingers. </p>
<p>Draco pushed up on his elbows, and watched Harry walk into the water—his black curls ruffled by a slight breeze, the muscles of his back shifting with every step … and that fantastic perky little arse.  </p>
<p>Puffing out air, Draco climbed up to his feet and stretched.  </p>
<p>He watched Harry gracefully dive into the crystal-clear turquoise water as he pulled off his loose tank top and tossed it aside. </p>
<p>Harry broke the surface with a huge splash, running his hands through his wet hair.  </p>
<p>Draco sighed—he was dating a sodding mermaid. Smiling to himself, he pushed down his bottoms, and began the slow walk over to Harry Potter.  </p>
<p>Harry turned to face him—waiting for him—with droplets of water trailing down his neck and chest.  </p>
<p>'Happy?' Draco asked. He was only pretending to be annoyed at his interrupted lie-down, really. </p>
<p>'More than you know,' Harry said, with laughter in his voice, as he held out his arms for Draco to come to him. </p>
<p>Draco was, too, he thought as barrelled into Harry’s chest, knocking them both over with a splash. </p>
<p>He was happy, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well there we are ❤️ Thank you for reading</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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